Ash Nazg of Sauron, Huidhenel of Middle-Earth
by A Diamond in the Rough
Summary: Ash Nazg is Sauron's daughter. When she sets out to save the ring, she changes her name to Huidhenel. Morwen and Quethiel of Gondor search for a cure to save their dying uncle. Randiriel lives in Lorien, not knowing who she really is. They are four strong women, knowing nothing of where their feet will take them, or the sacrifices they will have to make on their travels. R/r please
1. Chapter 1

So...Greetingses, readerses.

Vic: Please, Lily, don't talk like Gollum.

Lily: Fine. ION except Ash Nazg/ Huidhenel. And this is Legomance 'cuz Im addicted to it.

* * *

I am a secret.

That summarizes a great deal of my life, as a matter of fact. My name is Ash Nazg, created, as was the One Ring, from the fires of Mount Doom, or Orodruin as it is sometimes called. I was molded out of its flames into the likeness of a pitch-eyed and black-haired elf. However, more often I am called by 'Ash' simply to distinguish between me and the Nazg of my father when he consults with his Nazguls, his ringwraiths.

There are twelve on this earth who know of my existence.

One is my father, Lord Sauron. Nine are the Nazguls, who owe their allegiance to me as well as to him. The other two are orcs who aided my father in caring for me as a younger child.

This is my history, which truly began the day that my father decided, against his will, to allow me to go and retrieve his ring. His Ally, Saruman the White, was unfaithful and would take it himself. We both knew this, Father and I. So I was sent to make sure that did not happen.

* * *

"You know, do you not, what you must do?" The figure of my father was blowing anxiously about the room, twisting out of shape every time he moved. I stood by my bed carefully putting on all the leather things that he had instructed me to; things for my arms and shoulders and calves, and so on.

"Yes, Father, I know."

"And you know what you must do for aid? It will summon the Nazgul if your need is dire, but it you only need to be hidden, it will make you invisible, as if you wore my Ring. Recite it so I know you have not forgotten."

I put my hands behind my back and obediently began to recite.

"_Ash nazg durbatuluk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatuluk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul._ It is the verse on your ring, Father, and I will not forget."

"That is good. But you will, inevitably, encounter other beings than orcs," said Father. I nodded.

"I am ready. I will pass as an elf, since you have taught me the Sindarin tongue, and-"

"Ash, you will need to change your name."

This stopped me short. I could not believe that I myself had not thought of it; walking Middle-Earth by the name of Ash Nazg would be foolish and inadvisable. From the day that my father drew up the flame from the mountain and had it poured into the image of a girl, he had only entrusted his greatest secret-the fact that I am alive-to a few. My name should not, at any costs, be known.

"What do you wish me to change it to?"

"It is your choice, Ash. It is your name."

"Huidhenel," I said at once. "I shall go by Huidhenel outside our land, then."

"Ash," he said, as I made to salute him as all those of Mordor did, "I wish you to be safe. You are the only creation of mine which does not depend on the ring for its life. If it falls, this land, too, will go along with me. But you are not tied to it, or to me; but your loss will change me in a way I would not like to imagine. And for that I also wish to tell you; if ever you wish to appear dead, recite the last sentence of the verse and it will bring your life-force to me to be sustained, and your body, where you leave it, cannot be touched. Do you understand-Huidhenel?"

"I do, Father."

"Good. My blessings go with you, child. For both of our sakes, stay alive. I have given you such words as will never let you die, if only you use them. And if you run short of food, drink orc-blood. There will be plenty of orcs about the land, enough for you to kill some without it being known. My own and Saruman's alike are at your disposal."

"Thank you for all you have told me. I shall not fail you," I said. "I shall be safe."

"Thank you, my Ash," he said. "I am physically bound to the Ash Nazg, but to the Ash that I created, I owe all. Go, child."

I turned and left, grabbing my pack from where it stood.

* * *

After the Council of Elrond. Huidhenel was not there, obviously. I refer to her as that from now on.

* * *

"Elrond," said Gandalf. "There is a pressing matter I must speak with you about. It may be even more pressing than the One Ring."

Elrond followed Gandalf to a balcony, where he waited for Gandalf to begin speaking.

"There is rumor of a woman of Mordor in Middle-Earth," said Gandalf. "She unexpectedly aids small villages in the crisis of orc-raids, and, at the end, seems to fall exhausted. But if anyone approaches to give her aid, she will rise, mouth black with orc-blood, and vanish. As if she wielded a ring herself."

"This is indeed strange," said Elrond. "Were you able to find anything else about her?"

"I met her," said Gandalf. He closed his eyes. "And it was not an experience I wish to relive."

"What happened?" asked Elrond.

"She was drinking the blood of fallen orcs. That much I could see. She looks like an elleth, but for one fact; her hands do not have fingernails but sharp knife-like extensions which flick in and out at her will, her hair is purely black-you know that no elf can have truly black hair-and eyes that seem like bottomless pits."

"And her name?"

"She goes by the name Huidhenel, so far as I have heard. When she saw me, she cried aloud in the black speech, and vanished. The sound of the words themselves seemed to strike fear into me."

"What else is there?"

"None, Elrond. I have searched books and annals, looking for any word of an elleth of Mordor, but I have found nothing."

"I see. We must hope the fellowship does not meet her; she may be more deadly than an army of orcs."

Gandalf nodded. "Oh, there was one more thing-when I saw her, she was wounded. As you know, flesh wounds of elves heal almost immediately. The blood that fell from her arm before the wound closed was bright orange and yellow, not red at all, and when it fell on the ground, it hissed as if under flame."


	2. Chapter 2

So, my first reviewer pointed out some important things. There are gaps in the whole sauron's daughter thing, so it happened like this; Sauron gave his ring up for lost sometime after his shadow left Mirkwood and returned to Mordor. So he decided to use a person this time, who could be a weapon much stronger than the ring had ever been, and he poured just as much of himself into Huidhenel as he did into the Ring, but she definitely is her own person. This is also the reason that he named her Ash Nazg, after the one ring. She existed for the first few hours of her life as a stone image of a girl, but with several powerful spells Sauron converted her into a living body.

However, her heart is still solid stone and doesn't beat, and her blood vessels move blood themselves. She can't cry, sweat, etc. Her blood is actually thin lava, one reason why she can't touch the ring or have it on her person for a long time because eventually the warmth of her blood will finish it off. All her teeth are pointed and she can eat any type of food, though she has gone entire years without eating. However, when she is fighting she does need food because she utilizes her powers (they will be revealed later) constantly. Sauron did grow to care for her over several hundred years, which is why he is worried for her in the first chap.

And that is why the first time Gandalf saw her she was drinking orc blood. So, yeah. The ring verse can hide her, summon orcs for aid, or the Nazgul. Saying 'ash nazg thrakatuluk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul," basically transports her spirit out of her body and leaves her body basically immortal and untouchable. Her spirit is sustained in this kind of glowing jar thingy her father has, and it will be safe there until she chooses to go back.

So. Hope that long author's note was not too confusing and that you are still with me here.

* * *

"Gandalf, Mordor-is it left or right?" I heard the hobbit say.

"Left," said Gandalf.

I was walking along with the Fellowship, weapons at guard, invisible.

It was tempting to wrench the ring off his neck and flee to Mordor, back to my father. But I knew that was not how it must be done. We had to get close to Mordor first; as I was created of the fire of Mount Doom, the ring could not long remain in my possession without it melting. Otherwise, I would have taken it and gone. But even the length of time it took as the Nazgul flew would have destroyed it, and with it, all of my homeland. And my father.

"Do you feel that we are not alone, Gandalf?" said the quiet voice of the Elf. I had studied the entire Fellowship time and time again.

"We are not," said Gandalf. "There are nine of us here."

"There is a presence-I can feel it," said the Elf. "In the air, some dark power, something strange."

"You are right," said Gandalf in some surprise. "I can hear nothing, but I can surely feel something."

"What do you think it is?"

That was when my invisibility faded. I had forgotten to renew it, and when I realized it, I replaced it at once.

"Did you see that!" cried the smallest hobbit.

"See what, Pippin?" asked the Ringbearer.

"A girl. An elf girl. Walking. She was there for a minute and then she vanished."

"What did she look like?" asked another hobbit, clearly humoring the little one.

"She had black hair and black eyes and she was all in black."

At once the two men, the elf, and wizard went still.


	3. Chapter 3

I had managed to elude the fellowship.

But...not for long.

* * *

It was on the Pass of Caradhras that they had caught me. My inner hear melted the snow wherever I stepped. The elf noticed this.

* * *

"We cannot stay here! This will be the death of the hobbits!" Boromir cried. Huidhenel silently agreed, noting the blue pallor about their lips and hands. At this rate, they would be dead before they got within twenty leagues of Mordor, and she would have to return the ring by Nazgul. Which was not a good idea, because even the Nazgul could be tempted by it. Huidhenel, who had been formed of the same fire, felt no temptation, though she could sense the tempation of others fairly well. She realized that the others were discussing going through Moria and she winced.

That was not the first time that she had left Mordor. When she was still a child, her father had taken her to inspect Moria. She had played with several of the orcs, who seemed to be fond of her; when they left, her father wiped their memories so that they would not remember her. Huidhenel remembered the darkness and the perils there; there would be only so much that she could do.

"So be it," she heard Gandalf say.

As they began walking down, Legolas said, "I still feel as if something is following us."

"So do I. There is definitely some evil about it, though I cannot tell what."

His eyes turned to where Huidhenel walked. Being an elf, she left no prints, but the snow turned to slush where she trod. Gandalf grabbed Legolas'a arm.

"Did you see that!" he gasped, pointing. Legolas' eyes followed Gandalf's fingers and widened.

He sprang forward, catching Huidhenel, who struggled madly, trying to get loose. At last she gave up and lay still.

"There's someone here," he called, dragging her towards the others. Huidhenel saw her chance and bit down sharply on the flawless skin of his wrist. The others cried out in shock when they saw the scarlet crescent appear. However, Legolas did not turn her loose.

"Who are you?" he asked, his eyes looking directly into hers, though he did not know it. Huidhenel sighed and let her invisibility charm melt away. More shocked intakes of breath met her appearance.

"Who are you?" Legolas repeated the question.

Huidhenel stubbornly refused to answer. She clamped her mouth closed and then winced;the fire had run out from her lip where she had bitten it, burning her skin slightly. At this the eyes of the fellowship grew ever rounder, and Gandalf's reflected nothing but recognition.

"Huidhenel," he said. "So we meet again. Tell me, what are you doing here?"

"How do you know my name?" said Huidhenel. The others were confused at the sound of her voice; low and melodious, but hard, with the tingling sweetness of water-glasses when played on by a cunning hand. Such a sound could never have come from the softness of a mouth, human, elven, dwarvish, or hobbit.

"I saw you the other day when you assisted Rohan. Tell me, fire-maiden, what stakes have you in our quest?"

"I wish to protect you," said Huidhenel. "Until you reach the land where you seek to go. At its gates our paths must part, for I will go no further with you."

"There is something strange about you," said Gandalf. "And I cannot place it."

"There are many strange things about me," said Huidhenel, not looking at him. The others walked in her trail, for she melted the snow easily, though they were left very wet.

"I wonder if we shall know half of them," Gandalf muttered.

* * *

When they reached the Gate of Moria, Huidhenel was nearly in a state of collapse. The others had looked at her questioningly, but the cold combined with the fact that she had not had orc blood for some days had rendered her speechless and nearly comatose. She had not spoken for several hours, which worried the other members of the fellowship. She was lying now on the gravel by the water; Merry and Pippin were crouched anxiously over her. For some reason that the others could not fathom, they had taken to the strange girl. At first they had drawn to her for her warmth. The others had been extremely confused when she had not objected to the hobbits sleeping against her side on the mountain, to keep them from freezing. A sort of camaraderie had formed among the three. Huidhenel had been fascinated by the two and the jokes they told, for at home, she had never heard any.

"What do you think is the matter, Gandalf?" Merry asked.

"We have some food," said Gandalf. "I believe that its lack is all that troubles her."

"Wake her up," said Legolas. "Let her eat something. She will recover, I am sure."

Under persistent shaking, Huidhenel was roused enough to stomach some fruit and bacon. About an hour after she had eaten, she was able to get up and move with the same agility as before. The others told her to sleep while she could, and she obliged.

Soon after she sank into slumber, she began to talk in her sleep.

What they heard struck the fellowship to their very bones.


	4. Chapter 4

"No! Father, please! Please don't! Don't hurt him any more, he has endured enough! He will die! I'll do anything, take me, torture me instead-"

The others drew near, looking at each other questioningly. Huidhenel was fast asleep on the stone, writhing. She suddenly broke into sobs, though no tears came from her eyes. "Please, father, feel some pity for him! He did nothing wrong! It wasn't his fault, he didn't know! He has suffered so much, he has lost everything!"

The pleading cries did not stop. "No, I'm _not _a child! I am nearly a thousand years old and I _cannot _see anyone suffer! Not like _that_-not even an orc! I would not even kill an orc if it did not try and kill me first! Please, for my sake! If I hear him scream one more time, I am going to climb to the top of the tower and throw myself off-I will! I will, I swear it!"

Legolas crouched beside her, studying her. Whose daughter was she? Who was she talking about? Who was being tortured?

She reached out her hands in supplication, catching at nothing. "_Please. _He has endured enough-too much! Father, I promise, if you stop I'll never ask to leave again! Not until you order me to! I'll stay here in the fortress until you tell me to go. Only let that poor-"

Huidhenel jerked upright, her eyes losing their glazed look, going from one to the other of them. She broke into renewed sobs and threw her arms around Legolas, laying her cheek against the soft fabric of his tunic. Startled, he nearly jerked back, but stopped when he heard her say,

"Make it all go away, Sharku. Make it all go away. I'm having the dreams again. Father says he's sorry but he can't stop them. And I'm leaving tomorrow. I have to stop...stop dreaming like this or I will be heard, even if I can't be seen. Just hold me, just for a little while."

Huidhenel moaned, and Legolas tentatively placed his arms around her. _She called me Sharku...she speaks Orkish? Did she mean me, or someone else?*(at bottom)_

"You cannot help me by calling me your little Ashling. I need something...a potion, a tonic, anything! I keep on remembering that day. I should have died that day, I have heard his screams in my sleep ever since. Father hurt him so much...how did he bear it?"

Pippin crept up beside her and placed his hand over her heart. "Gandalf, her heart isn't beating."

Gandalf looked around from the doors and came to where Huidhenel lay. He applied his fingers to her wrist and frowned.

"Every answer about this girl only unveils more riddles," he murmured. "Her blood vessels move the blood themselves."

Legolas looked up, frowning. At last, Huidhenel woke truly, finding the fellowship gathered around her and staring unblinkingly.

"Why are you all staring at?" she said.

"What were you dreaming about?" asked Aragorn quietly. Huidhenel blanched and half-rose.

"Something that happened while I was at home." she muttered.

"Who was being tortured?" asked Gandalf urgently. His eyes showed that he knew; and he looked at her sadly. "Huidhenel, I know already, but who is your father?"

Huidhenel made no reply for some minutes. Then she sighed.

"You will have to know anyway."

She removed her leather jerkin, her mail, and her inner shirt. Standing before them in nothing but her chemise and trousers, she turned to the wall, and then drew the chemise off over her head, holding it to her chest.

The other nine saw a wide, sweeping curve that ran across her back. Realizing that what she wanted the others to see was obstructed by her long black hair, Huidhenel swept it over her shoulder and held it there.

"That is his mark," she said in a quavering voice.

Branded across Huidhenel's back was a stark black scar, which had been rubbed with ash until it had left a raised and darkened weal. It was in the shape of a large, slit-pupiled eye.

After hearing the gasp that went up, Huidhenel put on her things again and then turned to face them.

Their faces were shocked, horrified; Gandalf's face was not, and bared only understanding.

"_The maiden born of Orodruin, whose fire runs in her veins, whose heart is of cold, cold stone, who cannot weep, but can only stand by and mourn for the misery of others, and risk all, in the quest to do a greater evil to save one alone, and not the one to whom she owes her loyalty."_

"You are the daughter of Sauron, are you not, Huidhenel?

"Yes," she closed her eyes and began to tremble. "He thinks I set off for the Ring. And I did, but after I saw what he did to that poor Gollum creature-I heard him screaming for days on end, until they gagged him while they tortured him because I said his cries found their way into my dreams...but I set off to save Frodo," she admitted. "I did not ever, ever, want my father to torture anyone else like that, and if perhaps I was able to get the Ring to him, he would never find him."

"Child, he would have found him surely if he had his Ring," said Gandalf gently.

"There's another thing you must know...my name isn't really Huidhenel," she said, closing her eyes. "It is Ash Nazg-the one Ring."

At once, Frodo called out, looking at the doors, "What's the Elvish word for friend?"

"Mellon," said Gandalf.

At once, the doors opened, with a creaking noise. They crept inside.

Huidhenel, still horrified by her dream, paid attention to nothing the other said until she heard Boromir,

"This is no mine. It's a tomb."

"Noooo...nooooo...no!" cried Gimli sadly, looking at the bodies of his fallen kin. Legolas stooped and pulled an arrow from the body of one.

"We make for the gap of Rohan. We should never have come here-get out of the mines, get out!"


	5. Chapter 5

I didn't mention it before but thank you to all my reviews! I'm really sorry if you thought this was another chapter, but I will be updating both this story and Through the Looking Glass either today or tomorrow.


	6. Chapter 6

"Legolas?" Huidhenel said, leaning against an empty mining shaft. The others were sleeping; Gandalf seemed to be in some twilight between dreams and waking.

"Yes?"

"Do you trust me?"

"No." The word was sorrowful.

"Why not?"

"Because I do not know if you can lose the sway of your father...just yet."

Huidhenel sighed. She had been unable to sleep at all, thinking. Gollum's cries were haunting her dreams, as well, as the heartlessness of her father was.

"How did you grow up, Huidhenel? How were you created?"

"My father had a mold made in my shape, and then poured the fire of Mount Doom. It was only the size of a baby then and he spent seven days converting my body to a living one. I was cared for by an Orc and an Uruk-Hai. The Uruk-Hai, whom I called Sharku, was actually an elf, who had been tortured and mutilated, but possessed such strong will that he did not fade. It was also as if his body showed resistance to what he endured, as well. He looks like an elf yet, but with skin as grey as charcoal. He still had the same character as he did when he was an elf, or so he told me, though he does have a liking for old meat. But when my Father was not there, he told me tales...tales that seemed to make the sun look out through the clouds to hear him. He sang songs, too, in Sindarin, but he never told me what they were about. He brought the outside world into a land where nothing but darkness passed the gates, and then I longed to see it. I stole some of my father's maps, and studied them. Sharku told me all about all the realms of Middle-Earth. He was always with me, and when I decided to leave on my quest he begged me not to go. For days."

"Have you ever been in love?" asked Legolas. Huidhenel gave him a look.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, were you?"

Huidhenel's eyes went dull.

"Yes," she said, quietly.

"Who?" asked Legolas.

Huidhenel's mind returned to the day, nearly five hundred years before, when a young ellon had been imprisoned in Barad-Dur. "An elf my father captured. He was tortured regularly, but when I found out I asked my father to let him be my companion. He agreed. For about fifty years we never were apart."

"What happened?"

"He and I did love each other. But the flame and ash and the poisonous air of Mordor weakened him greatly. He was stronger than most elves, but they made him ill. Eventually he began to cough blood, and that was when I knew that it would not be long."

"And then?"

"He died," said Huidhenel. "My father consented to bind us, and I begged him to let him leave. But that would spell his doom either way, for if he was separated from me, he would fade. He said he would rather let the sickness take him than a shattered heart, or even the long years alone. So I waited for two years, as he grew paler and thinner, and one morning, when I rose, there was only a corpse beside me."

"What was his name?" asked Legolas.

"In Mordor you forget things," said Huidhenel meditatively. "I once forgot my own name when I was young. I only have memories of the last few hundred years or so."

"Then how is it that you remember your husband?"

"Because the day after he died," said Huidhenel, "I asked Sharku to brand his name over my heart. He refused, but eventually he relented."

Legolas flinched. "How..."

"I knew I would forget him. The scar will never fade, and of that I am glad, for while it remains so does the love in my heart for him."

"All of this and you still love your father?"

"I do not know. He has done a great deal to me...and for me. I am confused, I do not know what is and what is not."

Sighing, she unlaced the top of her tunic, and bared a burn in her white chest; the faint letters spelled out "Suiauthon."

"Suiauthon? Suiauthon of Mirkwood?" Legolas had gone very pale.

"Yes."

"And this was five hundred years ago?"

"Approximately."

"Did he ever speak of his family?"

"No."

"How old was he?"

"Nearing his seven-hundredth year when we met."

"So he is dead then," said Legolas, a tear rising in one eye and falling down his cheek.

"Did you know him, then?"

"I knew him well," said Legolas softly, "he was my brother."


	7. Chapter 7

SO! GUYS! I need an OC! Like...now! I want to introduce a love interest for Boromir, because honestly that poor guy just has to deal with too much. So...if any of you are interested...shoot me a PM or a review. Tell me the name of your character (I will not change it unless it's not middle-earthy because I don't want to have a falling-into-middle-earth character in this story.) the race (elf or human) age, description, character, likes, dislikes. Hey, model her after yourselves if you want. I'd love her to be a faithful representative of one of my reviewers.

On another note I need an OC for Haldir later, but she will be an elf. So if you want to be either just PM or review and tell me which one.

And make them as Mary-Sue-ey as you want, cuz, well, I'm taking what you give me :P

-A Diamond in the Rough

On a cheerier note, Vic and I have decided to get married this coming April instead of July or August. (Happiness.) Wish me luck, even though I've asked a hundred times already!

Bye bye!

-Lilian Dearborn


	8. Chapter 8

That night, after Huidhenel had fallen asleep, Legolas stayed up. It ad been Aragorn's turn to keep watch, but Legolas had not woken him.

Suiauthon.

Legolas had been the elder brother by about a hundred years. That was nearly nothing in the lifespan of elves; but the two brothers had cared for each other dearly. On the day when Suiauthon's hunting party had been ambushed and slaughtered, the two had parted never knowing they would never see each other again.

_"Brother, why so gloomy?"_

_"Sairalindë has eaten all the pastries, again."_

_"Can't be that bad, Suiauthon. She is only sixty, after all, she is bound to act like she is."_

_"We'll see just how bad it is when I return dead from the lack of Anselde's cooking."_

_"Oh, you are nothing more than a child. Hurry up and go. Tauriel is waiting to see you out."_

_"Farewell, Legless."_

_"Farewell, Suiauthon. And do not call me that. Just because those human children could not pronounce my name properly does not mean you should start."_

_"Oh, but it's so amusing, _Leg-oh-less._"_

_"SUIAUTHON!"_

_"Ha, brother! You will have to wait till Lammastide to get me back for that one."_

_"Lammastide it is, but I will have my revenge."_

_"Doubt it."_

_"Goodbye, brother. Go well and come safely."_

_"Can't make any promises, you know me."_

It was so strange. He had seen Suiauthon as no more than a child when they last saw each other. Suiauthon's hair blowing in the wind, cut short like a human boy's, a cheeky grin on his face as he begged the cook to tell him what was being served. But his brother had been taken and tortured in the Black Land, had fallen in love with the daughter of Sauron. He remembered what Huidhenel had said about memory fading in Mordor; with a wince, the image of Suiauthon's name burned into Huidhenel's chest came to his mind.

He looked over at her. Her sleep seemed more peaceful, as if she had needed to speak about him. He imagined how it must have been for them both when they knew that Suiauthon was dying. Legolas's heart clenched painfully at that. Huidhenel was not evil. He knew it. She had loved his brother, saved him from her father. How could such a woman be anything less than noble?

He sighed and tucked his knees closer to his chest.

_I miss the sight of Elbereth. Why do dwarves insist in living in their mines? The world above is so beautiful, and so many of them cannot see the jewels about them, for they are shadowed by the jewels beneath their halls. __Did Huidhenel see the stars in Mordor? What did she live? _

Huidhenel promptly awoke when Legolas thought that. She sat up and then hissed like a cat.

"What is it?" asked Legolas.

"Orcs. I smell them," she said. "They are quite far-off, though, and I doubt that they know we were here. They would surely have been here bu now if they did. Well, I doubt these are as well-mannered as my father's."

"Well-mannered?" asked Legolas, desperately trying not to laugh. "Have you ever met an orc you could desribe as such?"

"Many times," retorted Huidhenel. "I met one here."

"You have been here before?"

"Yes."

Legolas saw her tremble slightly. If a tear could have fallen from her black eyes, one would have done so then.

"I should have jumped while I had the chance," she said quietly, more to herself than to him. "It would have been so much easier."

"What?" asked Legolas.

"Nothing." Her eyes were flashing now, and Legolas felt an odd chill settle on his heart.

"I've figured it out! oh, it's so simple!" she said. It was a glad cry, and Legolas felt his heart sink even lower.

"What do you mean?"

"I have to get rid of that scar on my back," she said. Then she turned to face him. "I do love my father. I always will. But I hate what he has done. Half the time I thought Sharku was telling tales, that all of Middle-Earth was like Mordor, but now I have seen it I know what he did. Even my home must have been beautiful once."

"It was."

"Did you see it?"

"No."

At once a hiss broke the darkness. But it was not from Huidhenel. It was one of surprise.

"Did you hear that?" the two breather simultaneously, turning in anticipation to the sheer drop beside him.

The two pairs of eyes looked searchingly into the dark. Suddenly Huidhenel seemed to have realized something. Her hand flew to her mouth.

"It's Gollum," she said softly. "He's alive."

She leaned forward into the blackness.

"Take care, Huidhenel," said Legolas warningly.

"I will," she said. "I'm just trying to find him."

At once she stood up.

"I'll join you at the gate, Legolas," she said briskly. "If you need me...call my name, I will know."

"But where are you going, in the name of Gilthoniel?"

"After him," said Huidhenel. "where did you think I was going?"

"But why? He was a prisoner with us-"

Huidhenel's eyes narrowed dangerously. "And how did you treat him?"

"Well. Do not worry yourself for that-or for him."

"If you had heard him crying out, and been in my mind then-or his-you would know. Yes, you would."

"What are you going to do?"

"Go after him!"

"When you catch up to him, I mean?"

"Persuade him to see reason, that's all."

Huidhenel jumped.

Legolas screamed.

The Fellowship awoke.

* * *

"What do you mean, she jumped after Gollum? Is she insane?" said Merry incredulously.

"She pities him and sees some of his torture as her fault. I think that is why."

"She could be in alliance with him! The orcs! Or her father! No, definitely her father!" said Boromir.

"I know she is not," murmured Legolas, running a hand over his head. "I know she is not."

"How?" asked Aragorn.

"Gandalf," said Legolas, "do you remember Suiauthon?"

A shadow of sadness crossed the old wizard's face. "None who knew Suiauthon could ever have forgotten him."

"When he vanished, he did not die...not right away at least. He was taken to Mordor...where he was...where he was tortured. Huidhenel met him there, and saved him from her father. They became companions, and over time, lovers. He became ill there...all of that ash and flame, all the poison wafting in the air...and when Huidhenel knew he was dying she begged her father to bind them. He did so, and two years later, he died."

Gandalf closed his eyes.

"Poor boy," he said with a sigh. "His future was meant to be a bright one."

"Huidhenel was afraid she would forget him," said Legolas. "So she burned his name into her chest. The scar is still there...Suiauthon, spelled out above her heart. She cannot be evil. Because she loved. Truly. She loved my young brother with all her heart."

"Do not forget that her heart is made of stone and does not beat," said Aragorn quietly.

"That does not mean she does not have a soul."


	9. Chapter 9

Hi guys! So this story will now be alternating between POV'S, Huidhenel's, Legolas's, Randiriel (the OC who falls in love with Haldir) and Haldir's, I think. Right now the Battle of Moria is going on, and YES I AM GOING TO WRITE ABOUT IT. Credit goes to GollumGirl 2003 Coraline for the background and birth name if this character whom I like a lot :P

Randiriel rose from her knees.

The forests of Lothlorien were silent. It was pitch-dark; only the soft glow of the stars and the moon lit her path. Randiriel had lived in Lothlorien for the last hundred years; even without their light, she doubted her feet would falter. Looking down at them, she cast off her soft slippers, reveling in the sensation of the damp grass about her toes.

_It is only at night in Lothlorien that my heart is at rest. Its brightness strikes fear into my heart, even now. It is foolish, but I cannot help myself._

Smiling quietly at the memory of the previous night, she lay flat upon the grass and stared at the stars overhead. They were so beautiful, so simple, pure without convolution. Unlike her weary days. She remembered the days when she had truly been Vande Vanya, the Beautiful Maiden. That had been the name she had been given at birth. Years of wandering had taken most of Randiriel's beauty, yet she was still fair to see. When, in a deadly fever, she had been brought to Lothlorien, she had at first refused to speak. The first question she had asked upon waking was what her name was; Randiriel had remained silent, and the marchwarden, Haldir, had given her the name Randiriel, the wandering one.

She had lived up to that name over the next fifty years, not letting one word pass her lips, flitting in and out of Lothlorien like an errant moth.  
Her hands, unlike those of all other elves, were heavily callused and scarred. She had been made to learn archery without a vambrace; now, if she ran a finger over the skin of her left forearm, she could not feel anything at all. When Haldir, the only elf in the place that she could call a friend, had found that out, he had sat down beside her and told her he was not going to move until she told him the story of her life. Despite the fact that Randiriel had spoken to no one in Lothlorien for years, he had somehow known that she would tell him.

And so she had spoken quietly for hours, telling of the murder of her parents by a party of orcs, her sale to a slave trader as an elfling of twenty years, and the fifteen miserable years which followed them. After the death of her master, Randiriel had lived amongst the Southrons. They had respected her, for her years of working in windblown, sunny Southern grasslands had darkened her once-pale skin to a ruddy copper color and she no longer looked like an elf.  
At its end, all barriers that Randiriel had placed in front of her had swiftly dissolved into nothing. Haldir had sat there with her long into the night, listening to her flat, emotionless voice. At the end of her story, he had asked her something that had surprised her.

"I am sure no one has told you this for a long time, Vande-Vanya," he had said, "but your voice is beautiful."

"My voice has done nothing for the last hundred and fifty years but cry out in pain, shout battle orders, and laugh madly because tears hurt me worse than anything else ever could." Randiriel gave a small laugh which barely veiled the tears she fought. "And do not call me Vande-Vanya, I no longer own that name."

"What do you mean?"

"I had lost the light of the Eldar by the time I was a child of thirty, Haldir," she said. "Among the Southron women I knew, I was unquestionably the most beautiful, and the women of the Southron are beautiful. I doubt you have ever seen a Southron woman without her veil, so I do not think you would know that."

"Then why do you say your name is no longer yours?"

"Because I have lost the joy of our kind, their love for this world. Mine has done nothing but tear at my soul since I was a child."

"And your coming to Lorien? Do you regret that so much, Randu?"

That was the short name that Rumil and Orophin, Haldir's brothers, had given to her.

"No. I do not regret it." Then she laughed. "To think, for the past fifty years you have not heard me speak since I raved in my dreams in fever so long ago. And now we sit here having a conversation in the dark under a _mallorn_ tree."

"Sing a Southron song," he said. "A lullaby."

Randiriel had shot Haldir a look.

"A lullaby."

"Yes. I have heard many things about the Southrons, but even their lullabies must be gentle."

Slightly nervous, Randiriel had begun to sing.

"Kanne, Kanmaniye...Kannurangai ponne.  
Mayilo, thogai mayilo  
Kuyilo, koovum kuyilo  
Nilavo, nilavin oliyo  
Imaiyo, imayin kanavo...  
Malaro, maladin amudho  
Kaniyo, senkaniyin suvaiyo..."

Here Randiriel had trailed off, her gaze distant, not seeing the elf sitting beside her.

"What does it mean?" he had asked.

"My darling...the jewel of my eyes,  
Go to sleep, my dear precious one.  
Are you a peacock? Or its beautiful plumage?  
Are you a cuckoo bird? the chirping cuckoo bird?  
Are you the moon? or the moonlight?  
Are you the eyelid, or the dreams within?  
Are you a fruit, or the sweetness of a ripe fruit?  
Are you a flower, or it sweet nectar?"

"I don't think I am any of them, Randu."

"I was not asking you, Haldir!" Randiriel had said with a laugh.

"Why should you, when you are all of them?"


	10. Chapter 10

Hi guys! I am back! Sorry I took so long! i have been away. Will update faster now. As for Through the Looking Glass, it is on temporary hiatus. I am not abandoning it, I I had three long chapters typed and then I lost them somehow. So it will be coming back, and very soon too, I just want to get those chaps done before I post anything.

Vic: She owns nothing.

Lily: Neither does he.

* * *

Randiriel smiled as she thought of Haldir. There was to be a ball that night, and he had, very courteously, offered to accompany her. She knew that he could have had the most beautiful of elleths to go with him, but he had known that no one would offer to take her. She was an oddity among elves, with her amber-colored eyes, dark brown hair, dark skin, and Southron accent.

She turned to study the gown she had decided to wear that night. It was something no other elleth would wear to a gathering. It was a brown exactly the color of her hair, with embroidery at the neck, hem, and sleeve ends that was done in gleaming thread the color of her eyes. She had plaited her hair into several tiny braids, and above her forehead, threaded intoher hair, was a single piece of amber with a scorpion in the center. Her only ornament was her jeweled Southron headdress, which trailed to the floor, studded with tiny pieces of amber and embroidered with gold thread. She regarded herself in the glass. Randiriel did indeed look queenly, though she would be the least beautiful one there.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Haldir came in, dressed impeccably in pale blue robes. She stood in the center of the room, facing the window.

"What are you thinking of, mellon?"

"I was...never mind, it is of no importance."

The two walked silently out of Randiriel's talan and then out toward the Dancing Green, a great round circle of silver grass. Several other elves were already there.

"May I have this dance, my lady?"

"Of course, my lord," said Randiriel with a smile. Neither of the two saw the questioning looks of the other elves when they saw the joyous light that filled Haldir's eyes, or the jealous glances elleths who had hoped that Haldir would ask them to the dance.

"I never knew you were so accomplished at dancing, Randiriel," said Haldir, after seeing Randiriel effortlessly execute three perfect spins on the tips of the toes of her right foot.

"And I never knew that you were."

"Ah, but I have four thousand years of dancing behind me," said Haldir with a laugh.

"Do you dance that often then?"

"Of course not! I am the marchwarden, not a young ellon seeking a bride. I have been to balls fairly often, but is not the only thing that I do."

After Randiriel and Haldir had danced for some time, they left the green to sit in Randiriel's favorite tree.

"I see you are still pondering something," said Haldir gently.

"The time when I was still an elf," said Randiriel. She slid the headdress free and wrapped it around her shoulders as she sat looking out into the night.

"You...are...still an elf," said Haldir slowly.

Randiriel shook her head.

"Not anymore," she said. "It is not because I no longer have their beauty, no longer have their love for this world. I did not want to tell you...but perhaps it is better that you knew, rather than finding it out in about a hundred years."

"What is it?"

"I surrendered my immortality before I reached the age of sixty," said Randiriel quietly. "My lifespan will be only seventy years or so greater than that of the Dunedain. I do not regret it...I never will. But only know I will not live to see another age."

"You surrendered your immortality?" asked Haldir, his fingers clenching upon the tree limb he held. "You chose to consign yourself to the fate of the Secondborn? Knowing what would happen to you?"

"Yes. And I would make that same decision today, if it were to be given to me again. I have seen humans, lived among them, been called their sister in spirit, led them into battle. I know what they are. Their days are filled with the joy of being alive, with every day being precious because it is one day closer to the end. I grew used to living that way. I loved it. You have seen more than five thousand winters. Lothlorien is but a prison; a gilded cage, but a prison nevertheless. I yearn for darker, freer woods. I have a few memories of where I lived. I know it was a dark forest, and I remember my parents. I want to be _free, _Haldir. I was a general of war. I was a bird, free like the wind. Lothlorien is beautiful, but I cannot love it...not as you do. And I cannot love eternity, either."

"How long do you have?" asked Haldir.

"Eighty more years. Perhaps ninety..."

A strange sound broke from Haldir. He put his arms around Randiriel and hugged her close to his chest. "And here I was, thinking we have eternity, when we have years that are to me the blink of an eye."

"Friends have to bid each other farewell sometime, Haldir," said Randiriel, who was drifting off to sleep where she sat. "I have buried so many, cursing the fact that I would outlive them...seen children born, seen them grow enough to stand by me in war, and seen them grow old, wither...die..."

Haldir pressed his lips to her brow. "Who are you, Randu?"

"Even I do not rightly know," she said in a soft murmur. "I have changed so much over my years...I love an ellon, but he does not love me in return. I thought myself to be in love with someone long ago, but it was only a passing girlish fancy. The one I love now is impeccable, with all his faults."

A hand seemed to wrench at Haldir's heart. "Does he know of your love?"

"I do not know. I see nothing of it in his eyes every day. But he is a good friend. I will give him that. I am grateful for him, though he will never love me...as I am grateful for you. Do you love anyone?"

"I do. She is a stubborn elleth, you know. Beautiful as the day, but convinced she is not. She has the most loving heart in Lothlorien. She has seen hard times, but they have not done anything to her soul. It is a free soul, like a gull upon the sea."

Randiriel smiled faintly. "She knows you love her, does she not?"

"I wish she did...but her heart belongs to another..." There was sorrow in Haldir's voice. "He is a lucky ellon indeed to hold the esteem of one so pure in every way."

"We seem to be cursed to love those who love us not," said Randiriel, unconscious of the hot tears that had fallen onto her hair. "It is a worse fate for you than for me."

"I would rather an evil fate befall me than have even a shadow of it fall on you, my darling one." Hearing the catch in his voice, Randiriel sat up and turned to look into his eyes.

She placed a hard, callused palm upon his cheek, noticing how her hand caught on his skin, as if it were sandpaper on silk.

"And I would rather be torn into a thousand pieces than see a single tear fall from your eyes," she said, wiping the dampness from his cheek. "Do not cry for me. I have accepted my fate, and the friendship of the one I love is worth so much to me...the elleth he loves is a lucky one, indeed."

"Do you truly think he does not love you?" His deep blue eyes looked into her emerald green ones.

"I know he loves one, but I known not who she is," Randiriel answered.

"Then let me set your doubts at rest as to who." said Haldir. He bent his face to hers and kissed her gently. "Does that answer your question?"

A sob had broken from Randiriel's throat.

"I am sorry-it was too bold of me-"

"Haldir, you mean more to me than anything else in this world does," she said, pressing their entwined hands to her lips, her tears bathing them. "I beg you not to love me-it was why I never spoke of my love for you. I gave up my immortality, and I do not rue that decision, but I cannot see you sign your life away because of me."

"I would rather spend one single moment with you than eternity with another," said Haldir. "If you were doomed to die tomorrow, I would ask you to bind yourself to me and let me die with you. My life means nothing without you, and it has meant nothing without you ever since the day you decided to open your heart to me fifty years ago."

"So you would ask that only if I were doomed to die tomorrow?" asked Randiriel with a husky laugh.

"No. I will ask you now...Vande Vanya, my Randiriel, will you be my wife so we may spend our lives as one?"

"I will. Whenever you will it," said Randiriel. "But do not call me Vande Vanya."

"I will call you _meleth nin, _then...for that is what you are, my love..."

* * *

"Goblins!" cried Legolas, looking toward the doors of the room.

"Bar the doors!" said Gandalf. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli sprang into action, collecting broken weapons to bar the cracked wooden doors.

"Let them come," cried Gimli, springing up atop the white marble tomb. "There is yet one dwarf in Moria that still draws breath!"

A sudden noise behind them made them all turn around. They saw something black emerging from the well; Pippin, mustering his courage, hit it as hard as he could with a piece of fallen stone. At once there was a groan and Legolas left his place and ran to hoist the black thing out of the well; at once they saw that Pippin had struck Huidhenel's head.

"Fool of a Took!" cried Gandalf yet again. He came to Huidhenel's side, looking into her slightly unfocused eyes. He helped her stand. "How do you fare, Huidhenel?"

Huidhenel moaned again and then stood up, swaying. At once her eyes began to sharpen, and she grinned, revealing pointed teeth.

"Let those orcs come. I am hungry."

At once the doors were shattered and orcs came pouring in. Aragorn and Legolas fought with bows and daggers, while more than twenty orcs fell under Boromir's sword. Sam was fighting with his heavy iron frying pan, while Merry and Pippin had armed themselves with rocks. When a troll entered, Legolas took it on.

However, five minutes later, the entire Fellowship heard a cry and turned to see the troll wrench a spear from Frodo's chest.

He fell facedown upon the shattered stone.

With a piercing scream, Huidhenel leapt onto its neck, stabbing it as hard as she could. With the last of its strength, the troll ripped her loose and flung her away before falling dead upon the floor; with a crunch, Huidhenel hit a wall and slid down it to lie beside Frodo.

The eyes of the other eight were upon her in horror as her eyes glazed over in a haze of pain. They saw her mouth something, as if to call their names. Her eyes went to Legolas, and then her eyelids began to flutter closed. But before her pitch-black eyes could be veiled from the single ray of sunlight that filtered into the room, their lids stopped in their path, and her eyes went still, shining like glass, the light gone from within them.

Huidhenel was dead.

* * *

Dun dun dun dun! CLIFFHANGER! HUIDHENEL IS DEAD! YES SHE IS DEAD! Just kidding, of course not. If you remember the first chapter, you'll know what she mouthed and why she's still alive.


	11. Chapter 11

As one, the others rushed to them. Aragorn turned Frodo over.

"He's alive!" he cried. "That thrust would have skewered a wild boar!"

"But it did not skewer me," said Frodo. "Does-does Huidhenel live?"

Then they turned to Huidhenel. A single tear fell from Legolas's left eye as he knelt beside her, hoping against hope that she still lived. Yet in an instant he knew that her soul no longer lived within her body.

"Come on, Legolas. There is no time-we must fly."

"What, and leave her here?" he asked, turning to Aragorn.

"Carry her, then. But we must fly!"

They ran out of the chamber.

"The bridge is near," said Gandalf, relief in his eyes. "Then the Gate will come."

Orcs began to crawl forth from holes in the ceiling, and soon the Fellowship was surrounded.

* * *

Randiriel sat alone in her talan. Books lay strewn over the floor, helter-skelter. She was lying on her stomach on her bed, her brow furrowed, her eyes aching from hours of reading. She had had a strange dream, featuring a group of people; four halflings (which, though she had never seen them, she knew were called hobbits) two men, the wizard Mithrandir, and a dwarf. There were also two elves; one man, with long blonde hair exactly like her own, and a similar nose. They were in the wood surrounding Lothlorien; she could see Haldir following them noiselessly. In the elf's arms was an elleth, whose eyes were closed; she was dead. There was such pain on the face of the ellon who held her...She had seen Haldir exchange words with one of the men and with the elf who held the dead elleth, and she caught nothing except the words, "daughter of Sauron." Haldir had then looked at the dead elf suspiciously, and motioned the band to proceed into Lorien.

Then she had awoken, after seeing that the hair of the elleth the elf held was black as night, a color that no elf's hair could ever be. There were numerous scars on her arms, and letters seemed to be branded onto her chest.

When Randiriel had woken, she had gone to the annals of Lothlorien, looked for every book she could that had the name Sauron in it, and gone through them, looking for each one that had any mention of a "daughter of Sauron." Randiriel wondered how Sauron could ever have a daughter. However, something in the back of her mind seemed to say that indeed he did. The dream had been too real; she thought she recognized the ellon from somewhere, as if the sight of his face awakened some old memory from the days before her parents were murdered, days she barely recalled at all. The memory of grieved eyes...a woman's eyes. Snatches of a whispered name...Lego-something or other. And another name, one she knew she remembered. A name spoken with tears barely veiled..."Suiauthon."

She did not know whom either of these were, only that neither was the name of her parents. She had never spoken those names to anyone. They were hers, hers to have, hers to hold, cherished secrets of a forgotten past. Legolas, perhaps that had been it...and Suiauthon. Who were they? One name spoken with joy, the other with terrible sorrow. All she remembered besides that were the glimpses of her parents' faces, crying out, "Run, Vande! Run!" as orcs surrounded them. Her father had been Elensar, her mother Maeglin. She remembered these names too, but something made her question this. Who had they really been? And always, always those other two names lurked in the shadows of her mind...

A knock on her door interrupted her thoughts.

"Come in," Randiriel called. Haldir opened the door, which promptly hit a thick volume with dark runes covering the front leaf.

"What are you doing with all these books?" asked Haldir, picking up the book.

"Looking for any mention of a daughter or Sauron," she said. Then she looked up. "I had a dream. Ten people. Two elves, two men, four hobbits, Mithrandir, and a dwarf. There was an elleth in the arms of an ellon...she was dead, and I heard the ellon say, 'daughter of Sauron.'"

"What did he look like?" asked Haldir, sitting beside her. His eyes were alert, searching hers.

"He looked quite similar to you, only the bones of his face were slimmer, his cheekbones higher. I keep on thinking that I know him from somewhere."

"Could it be you had known him when you were younger, perhaps?"

"I think I did," said Randiriel, putting her hands to her head. "There are two names I know I heard. Legolas and Suiauthon. I have no idea who they are or who they were, but something tells me that Legolas is that ellon."

Haldir started. Then he looked at her. "Suiauthon. You heard that name?"

"Do you know him?" Her voice was eager. "Is he here in Lorien?"

"He vanished, many years ago," said Haldir with a sigh. "He was an elf from Mirkwood; his hunting party was attacked by orcs and slaughtered, but Suiauthon's corpse was never found. If he yet lives, I know not where, but my heart tells me that he is dead. I knew him when he lived, and that was nigh on six or seven hundred years ago, long before you entered this world."

Another rap sounded at the door.

"Come in!" cried Randiriel impatiently. A young elf opened the door.

"Ah-have I interrupted something?" he asked delicately.

"No, only research," said Randiriel, throwing the book across the room in frustration. Haldir stretched out one hand and caught it.

"Knowledge does not come so cheap, Randu," he reproved.

"You're right, sorry. But what did you want?"

"The Lady Galadriel wishes to see you at her mirror, Lady Randiriel," said the young elf, bowing. "She wishes to see you now."

Randiriel and Haldir padded quietly out of the talan and walked to the Lady Galadriel's Seeing Hall.

"If she wishes to see you at the mirror," Haldir breathed in Randiriel's ear, "you must go alone."

_He is right, Young One. It is time what I have known long be revealed to you._

Randiriel blinked. She knew that the Lady could enter the minds of others, but Galadriel had never entered hers before.

"All right."

She walked up the steps. Galadriel was standing by the mirror.

"Randiriel," said Galadriel.

"My Lady."

"Look into the mirror."

Randiriel obediently stepped up to the mirror and looked deep into the water. At once it went opaque, showing her the image of a young elf. His blond hair fell to the small of his back, his eyes were a crystalline emerald-like hers. He was on a horse, waving goodbye to the ellon she had seen in his dream. The two were nearly identical in all but the fact that the hair of the younger was slightly wavy and the eyes of the elder were bright blue. Then she saw the younger ellon standing hand-in-hand with the elleth she had seen. Both were crying; the elleth placed her hands onto his chest; the ellon shook his head and both bowed their heads in their grief.

Then she saw herself...and yet it was not her. The hair of this vision was longer, this elleth looked older...but it could have been her...the same blonde tresses, the same green eyes. The older ellon she had seen knelt by her, and another, much older, his eyebrows frosted with silver, on the other side. In the lap of the woman was a tiny baby with wide green eyes like her mother's.

"Do you understand now?" asked Galadriel.

Randiriel shook her head. Was this her future?

"No...it is your past. Watch closely."

She saw the baby grow up, into a laughing elfling. She saw the child's mother place her into the arms of a woman who looked familiar..._Mother? Is that you? _The woman kissed the child on the brow, waved goodbye to the elfling's mother. The little elfling waved too, and then a man joined the woman. They mounted two horses, and then rode away to the east.

The next image showed the man, woman, and elfling at the rear of a crowd. They were laughing and talking, and all of a sudden, wave upon wave of orcs poured into the wood. Randiriel's palms had gone sweaty. She had seen this before. She had seen it, all from the eyes of the horrorstruck elfling, running for her life.

That meant that those she had thought of as father and mother were not. It was the two elves who were...the elleth who looked so like her, the ellon with silver brows. They had sent her away, but she was sure that she had been meant to return, and soon...but then...

"What happened?" Randiriel managed to speak. "My parents were not Elensar and Maeglin?"

"No, they were not. They were two of the Dunedain. Threats upon your life were made by elves in Mirkwood. It was decided that you should be taken to Rohan. The elves were sailing for Valinor. By the time that they and your caretakers had to part ways, you would have already entered within the borders of Rohan. But your party was attacked before you even left Mirkwood. Too many orcs even for those who accompanied you to defeat. You had known Elensar and Maeglin for many years, ever since you had seen five summers. Elensar was your tutor, and Maeglin your nursemaid. They were married to each other. and when your life was threatened, they and no other would see the thing done."

"What happened to my parents?"

"After news reached them of what had happened, they thought you had been killed by the orcs. You had had an older brother, Suiauthon, who perished many years before your birth. The grief was too much for your mother, and she faded. You also have a sister, Sairalinde. She is still in your ancestral home."

"And Legolas? Who is he?" asked Randiriel, her mind reeling.

"He lives yet. He will, in fact, be here within a few days."

"And who was my mother? Who is my father?"

"Your mother and father were Eleniel and Thranduil of Eryn Lasgalen-they were the king and the queen. You were-you _are _a princess of Mirkwood, one whom all the world believes to be dead."

"But my name...Vande Vanya...surely someone would have..."

"That was not your birth name, Randiriel. It was what Maeglin called you. Those outside Mirkwood, the elves of Rivendell and Lorien, knew you as Haeronwen. That was the name you were given at birth. The reason you remember Vande Vanya is because it was what you were called. You were never called Haeronwen after you met Maeglin."

"Is that...all? Or is there more?"

"That is for you to find out, Randiriel," said Galadriel.

Randiriel bowed to the Lady and slipped from the room. She fell down the stairs outside, and was caught by Haldir.

"Randiriel! What has happened?"

In a numb whisper, Randiriel related all that she had seen.

"You are Haeronwen? The second princess of Mirkwood?"

"I have many names, none I believe belong to me. Haeronwen I was, but I can never be her again, not even if I return to my family."

The two walked back to Randiriel's talan, where they sat down on her bed. Randiriel leaned against Haldir's chest, listening to the soft sound of his breathing.

"Haldir?"

"Yes, _meleth nin_?"

"What is Legolas like?"

"He is very kind, he fights with a bow...he looks like you. You are the image of the Queen Eleniel."

Randiriel gasped. "But when he sees me..."

"Yes, he will know at once. You must tell him when he arrives with the rest of the fellowship."

"It is still troubling me," said Randiriel, rubbing her forehead. "The vision of him holding the dead elleth with death in his eyes. You are sure that there was no woman with them?"

"Yes, I am sure. Nine set out from Imladris, and nine shall arrive here within a day or two."

"I hope so," said Randiriel. They fell asleep, both worried, both wondering what was to come.

* * *

"Legolas, get them up," said Aragorn.

The Fellowship had just stumbled out of the mines, into the snow and the welcome sun. Yet there was not a single face, but for Huidhenel's, which was not stained with tears.

"Oh, give them a moment, for pity's sake!" Boromir cried.

"By nightfall these hills will be swarming with orcs! We must move on," said Aragorn.

Legolas hoisted Huidhenel into his arms again, looking down at her. Only hours ago she had been so sure, so beautiful, so _alive. _Now it was only a dead body he held in his arms. He would not bury her here, not in the wilderness, not alone. She would lie with other elves by her side, or be burned and her ashes left to the winds.

"Shall we make for Lorien?" he asked Aragorn.

Aragorn nodded. Then he looked at Huidhenel. "We will find aid there, and there Huidhenel can be laid to rest."

Legolas nodded. And the fellowship set off, heavy hearted, with two members less than had set foot into the mines, towards Lothlorien.


	12. Chapter 12

THREE CHAPTERS IN TWO DAYS! YOU ARE LUCKY FOLKS! YES YOU ARE!

Disclaimer: I own nothing and if you think I do, go look J. R. R. Tolkien up on Wikipedia. So yeah, please, don't sue me. I have a Killer Lawyer and his name is Gollum, though I prefer to call him Smeagol.

* * *

To GollumGirl 2003 Coraline: A HUGE THANK YOU FOR ALL THE OC'S. THEY ARE BRILLIANT AND I LOOK FORWARD TO WRITING THEM. *huge stack of virtual cookies* eat them, eat them! I have never had a reviewer who is so awesome! All you other guys, you've gotta wait for the oc's. They are bee-you-tee-ful.

* * *

"The Lady Galadriel said that the Fellowship would be arriving today," said Haldir, as he and Randiriel approached the northern borders with Haldir's patrol.

"I am somewhat uneasy," admitted Randiriel. "I do not know why, but I am."

"Remember to stay behind when I go to meet them. You are still worried about what you saw?"

"Yes, I am. Very worried, in fact."

"Because you are meeting your older brother for the first time?" asked Haldir.

"No. Something about the elleth I saw worries me."

Haldir held up his hand as if to quiet her. Randiriel fell silent, and heard a gruff voice say, "Keep close, young hobbits! They say an elf witch lives in these woods. All that look upon her...fall under her spell...and are never seen again."

Randiriel heard another voice, and then, "Well, this is one dwarf she won't ensnare so easily. I have the ears of a hare and the eyes of a hawk!" Noticing that Haldir had left her side, she heard his silky voice, "The dwarf breathes so loud we could have shot him in the dark."

Throwing caution to the winds, she ran towards him. "Haldir! Haldir! Is she there?"

She saw the group she had seen in her dreams. The ellon indeed held the body of an elleth, and when he saw her, his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. He simply stared up at her; she looked back at him.

"Mother?" he breathed. "What magic is this?" He turned to Haldir. "What..."

"She has several names, my lord," said Haldir. "The first is Randiriel, the second, Vande Vanya-" Randiriel saw Legolas start up, shock in his eyes. "She has a third name as well, Legolas. Perhaps you know what it is."

"Haeronwen?" he asked.

Randiriel nodded. "I am she, Legolas. It was shown to me by the mirror of the Lady Galadriel."

"Her body was never found," he said, "What happened?"

She approached him and then looked down at the elleth. She was very beautiful, with hair as black as night, skin like alabaster. She looked at Legolas questioningly. He would not meet her gaze, but she saw two tears fall onto the veiled, dead eyes.

* * *

The elleth, whom Randiriel now knew to be called Huidhenel, was laid in a shady alcove beneath a mallorn tree. The first night that the Fellowship was in Lothlorien, Randiriel looked out of her talan window to see the mallorn, the body of Huidhenel, and Legolas standing there looking down upon her. Randiriel padded softly out and walked over to him. When he turned to see her standing there, he sighed.

"It is so hard to imagine that she is gone."

"How did she die?"

"A troll threw her against a wall." said Legolas bitterly. "She had been hit on the head minutes before; perhaps, if not for that, she would have known not to take on the troll as she did."

"Where was she hit?"

"Jut above her forehead...there was a lump the size of my hand..." Then he trailed off and looked at Huidhenel's head. Randiriel looked as well. Huidhenel's head was smooth; no bump was visible.

"It's gone," he said, puzzled. "When she was...hit...it was there."

Randiriel cried out in astonishment. Huidhenel's chest had begun to rise and fall again. Gasping, Legolas lifted her hand and looked at her face; her eyes fluttered open. She looked dazed, as if she had taken a bad blow to her head.

"Where...where am I?" she said, groggily.

"You're in Lothlorien, Huidhenel. We are safe."

"Gandalf." muttered Huidhenel, trying to push herself to a sitting position. "Gandalf, where is he?"

"He fell," said Legolas softly, closing his eyes.

"How is it you live?" asked Randiriel, looking at her in wonder.

"I sent you a dream of us entering Lorien...did you dream it?"

Shocked, she nodded. "You heard the words 'daughter of Sauron, did you not?"

"Yes, I did."

"That is because I am his daughter. Broken from his yoke, perhaps, but still his child."

Huidhenel was promptly silenced when Legolas hugged her tightly. "_Never _do that do me again. You have no idea how terrified we all were."

Pulling away, she gave a weak smile. "Well, I returned now. I sent my fea to my father to sustain it, and he healed my body while protecting my soul. He does care for me, you know."

Bemused, Randiriel could only stare at Huidhenel. Why was the world so complicated, anyway?

* * *

Haldir found himself unable to sleep.

He had seen dead elves in his time, but still the sight of Huidhenel laid to rest beneath the mallorn haunted him. _Now that she knows it is true, Randiriel will be uneasy. _

Drawing a cloak around him, he left his talan and walked quickly to hers. He knocked on the door; hearing no reply, he opened the door and found the room empty. Crossing to the window, he saw her and Legolas kneeling by the dead elleth...the _dead _elleth? She was sitting up, leaning against the mallorn, one hand in Legolas's. Confused, he sprang from the window and rushed toward the three of them. "Legolas! What happened?"

"She was merely in coma, mellon." said Legolas, light in his eyes. "Not dead."

Haldir looked at Huidhenel. She seemed weary, and something seemed to tell him that he should be wary of her.

"Who are your parents?"

Huidhenel grinned.

"My mother, Magic; my father, Sauron."


	13. Chapter 13

Four CHAPTERS IN Three DAYS! YOU ARE LUCKY FOLKS! YES YOU ARE! AND HERE ENTER OC'S MORWEN AND QUETHIEL! There are more though, and these awesome girls are the brain-children of GollumGirl 2003 Coraline.

Disclaimer: I own nothing and if you think I do, go look J. R. R. Tolkien up on Wikipedia. So yeah, please, don't sue me. I have a Killer Lawyer and his name is Gollum, though I prefer to call him Smeagol. He's the sweetest thing ever.

* * *

To GollumGirl 2003 Coraline: A HUGE THANK YOU FOR ALL THE OC'S. THEY ARE BRILLIANT AND I LOOK FORWARD TO WRITING THEM. *huge stack of virtual OREOS* eat them, eat them! Wait here's a glass of milk, i never eat oreos without milk. I have never had a reviewer who is so awesome! All you other guys, you've gotta wait for the oc's. They are bee-you-tee-ful.

* * *

Morwen Aeromer lay flat on her bed, her hands folded over her stomach. Her eyes were closed; she was fast asleep. The dim light made her look like a grey shadow' waving auburn hair looked dingy, and perhaps her soft brown eyes would have appeared so, as well.

The door of her room creaked open. A young girl, perhaps two or three years younger than Morwen, stepped into the room. Tears gleamed on her face; there was sorrow in her eyes. Her golden hair was pulled back into a severe bun and covered with a scarf; her black eyes were red and swollen. Kneeling by the bed, she shook Morwen awake.

"What is it?" asked Morwen. "Is everything all right, Quethiel?"

"It's your uncle," said Quethiel. "He is worse."

Morwen was up at once, all vestiges of sleep gone from her eye. She followed Quethiel into the next room, where they could see a man lying on a bed, coughing feebly. Morwen went down on her knees beside him.

"Uncle, how do you fare?"

"Well enough," said the man, bringing a wasted hand to Morwen's hair. "The sight of you and Quethiel and my sister lightens my body as well as my heart, my dear niece."

Foigred Aeromer suffered from an illness called Combsbane, which wasted the body away by killing the lungs. Foigred had come down with it eight months before; both Morwen, her friend Quethiel, and Morwen's mother Quothol were afraid he would not last to the year's end. The illness had one cure which had never, in all history of the disease, failed to work; a brew made of the sacred soils and mallorn leaves only found in Lothlorien, realm of the elves. However, the Steward of Gondor, Denethor son of Ecthelion, had forced all trade with Rivendell or Lothlorien to cease the year before. No one in Gondor had had Combsbane for many years, and mallorn leaves had not been brought to Minas Tirith for at least seven or eight years. There were none left in Gondor, and the only cure for Foigred lay across Middle-Earth. The lucky thing was that it seemed to not be contagious, as if the body were failing on its own.

"I'm going to go to Denethor again today," said Quothol, hurrying in and glancing sadly at her brother. "He and Foigred grew up together and fought together, and perhaps he shall relent when he hears how poorly my brother is."

"Do not count on it, sister," said Foigred, "Denethor changed after Finduilas's death. He no longer knows friend from foe, family from traitor. Go, but know he will refuse."

Quothol sighed and then went out. Morwen and Quethiel would have sat with Foigred until she returned, but he shooed them out, so they went to sit on their doorstep and watch the people of Minas Tirith go by. Their family was high in the court; Quethiel's father had been killed in battle and her mother had died birthing her, so Quothol and Foigred had taken her in. Both girls knew the sons of the Steward well. Morwen had often thought from afar that Boromir, the elder, was very handsome, but both liked the younger better, for he was nearer their age and not as high-and-mighty as Boromir seemed.

"Well," said Morwen. "What do you want to do?"

"We can't leave Uncle," said Quethiel. "What would happen if he needed something and we weren't there?"

In the room behind them, Foigred called out. "I'll be fine; the maidservant is here for a reason, you know. Go on, have your fun."

"Are you sure you'll be all right?" asked Morwen.

"Yes, now go."

The two girls wandered aimlessly around the city. Their thoughts led them to the room they had always gone to with their troubles; Faramir's study.

"What is wrong?" he asked them after one look at their faces.

"Uncle," said Morwen with a sigh.

Faramir well knew the situation of the Aeromer family. He had begged his father to resume trade with Lorien so that they could regain a stock of mallorn leaves for the illness; even Boromir had, for both boys looked upon Foigred as a second father. He was, in fact, their godfather, and had blessed both boys on their Naming Days. It had always been Foigred that the boys ran to when Denethor had been harsh, or when Denethor, lost in thoughts of his dead wife, seemed to think his sons as dead to the world.

He enfolded them in a hug. "I am so sorry. You know that if I could be spared, I would ride to Lorien myself and fetch the leaves."

"I hate your father," spat Quethiel. Faramir looked at her and sighed.

"Boromir would have scolded, but Uncle Foigred is as dear to me as he is to you, and I will not. Sometimes, I think the same."

On their way back to the Aeromer apartments, Morwen was struck with an idea.

"I know how to save uncle," she said, turning to Quethiel.

"How, though?"

"We disguise ourselves and ride for Lorien."

"I'll do it," said Quethiel, her eyes becoming hard and determined. "When do we leave?"

"Tonight."

* * *

That night, when all was dark, the girls had ensured that they would be able to get out of Minas Tirith unseen. Foigred had several strong sleeping draughts compounded for him, as the pain in his chest often made him unable to sleep. One drop, within twenty minutes, rendered him comatose, almost; Quethiel had taken three vials of this and emptied it into the wine used for the guards and soldiers. All on duty were now slumbering, and Morwen had packed food; _cram, _and bundles of dried venison. She had filled two waterskins each, and taken changes of clothes (Foigred's old clothes; dresses would have been impractical) and linen bandages.

"Come on, Quethiel," said Morwen with the bundles as she stopped at the door. Quethiel had stooped beside their uncle and was staring at him.

"I'm just saying goodbye," she said with a sob, "if when we get back, he's-"

"Don't say it," begged Morwen. "Come on."

Heading to the stables, they took their two horses (a mare named Yrchbane and a stallion, Quickfoot) and rode toward the gate of the city. The guards there were snoring. Morwen looked at Quethiel.

"This is it. Let's go."

Quietly, Morwen undid the bolt of the gate, and the two rode off.

Not knowing what would befall them on their journey, or whom they would meet, or where their feet would take them before the end.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I own nothing and if you think I do, go look J. R. R. Tolkien up on Wikipedia. So yeah, please, don't sue me. I have a Killer Lawyer and his name is Gollum, though I prefer to call him Smeagol. He's the sweetest thing ever.

* * *

I am now married to Victor Johns in the eyes of the law. (we had a court wedding yesterday, but we will be having a formal one next year) wish me luck! And no I did not change my name, and I don't have a wedding ring (yet) but I am officially married.

* * *

To GollumGirl 2003 Coraline: A HUGE THANK YOU FOR ALL THE OC'S. THEY ARE BRILLIANT. *huge stack of virtual OREOS* eat them, eat them! Wait here's a glass of milk, i never eat oreos without milk. I have never had a reviewer who is so awesome! I loved your story by the way...and Helena is sooooo sweet! Give her some cookies too...does she like Ginger Newts?

* * *

So I know that the plot might seem a bit confusing now, but all the different POVS will converge into one place, so yea. And someone pointed out that there is a canon character called Morwen. That was Theodred's mother, dead wife of Theoden. My character Morwen was named after her.

* * *

And as I update this story there have been exactly 2222 views...wow :P

* * *

Morwen awoke to the sounds of groans, and looked up to see that the sky was still dark. She looked up to see Quethiel huddled in her blankets, moaning a little. She crawled over to Quethiel. "Are you all right?"

"My back hurts," Quethiel moaned. "I can't sleep."

"Do you have the cramps?"

"No, I had them last week. It's just that sitting on a horse makes my back hurt a great deal."

"Oh. I did pack some pain tonic and a little of Uncle's sleeping draft; do you want it?"

"You never told me! Yes, please, I do."

Morwen rummaged in her pack and brought out two small vials; one filled with a bloodred liquid, and one with a pale whitish fluid. The first was juice of the amaryl flower, the sedative. The second was the pain tonic. Delving a little further into the bag, she drew out a crude white cup she had painstakingly carved from a large spiral shell when she was a child. She filled the shell half-way with water, and then poured one drop from each bottle into the cup. This she handed to Quethiel, who downed it in one. After about five minutes, Morwen heard a sigh of relief.

"Thank you, Morwen," Quethiel murmured. The sleeping draft was beginning to take effect. Within seconds Quethiel was sleeping peacefully, but now Morwen was wide awake. She was tempted to swallow a drop of the potion herself, but they only had a little; it would not do to waste it.

As Quethiel slept, Morwen looked out over the empty grasslands around her. She had heard that orcs were freely roaming the uninhabited lands of Middle-Earth now; she wondered what on earth she and Quethiel were to do if they ran into a pack of them. Try to fight? She had got a bow, a sword, and a dagger for each of them; the problem was that they hadn't got that many arrows and she was absolutely terrified of fighting in close combat. Folding her hands under her head, she lay back and stared up at the sky.

She wondered why exactly her life was so complicated. Morwen had spent the majority of her twenty years without her father, but before she was born, her father and Denethor had promised her in marriage to Faramir, if she was a girl. They had been overjoyed when she was born, but neither Faramir nor Morwen had been happy with the arrangement. He was her close friend and brother, but nothing more. After Morwen's father died and the Aeromers had lost a great deal of money, though they retained their high status, the betrothal had been canceled. The two would have been jubilant, if not for the circumstances under which it happened.

Morwen sometimes thought about love and marriage, though it seemed to be a thing that Quethiel would know, rather than her. Morwen, though she had long thick, shining auburn hair and wide brown eyes, was not very pretty. However, Quethiel had long golden hair which flashed in the sun, piercing black eyes, and a beautiful face, a fine nose, delicately arched eyebrows, a plump, strong mouth, and a very good jawline.

She had had suitors in droves since she was sixteen; and she had a good figure, unlike Morwen. Quethiel was curved in all the right places; though Morwen was older, she had a figure like a slat of wood. Morwen wasn't jealous of Quethiel. She'd had to protect her since they were little, and was proud of her for every accomplishment, the proudest of the ones that Morwen herself did not possess. If Quethiel had decided to become an eagle (Morwen doubted that it was possible) Morwen would have thought that she would like to be the wind that bore her aloft.

Shaking herself slightly, Morwen wondered what she would do without her sister in spirit. She couldn't even imagine a single day without Quethiel at her side. She had often wondered what it would be like when her sister married and left her alone, but she always pushed that thought to the side.

_But I'm lucky to have Quethiel, _Morwen thought. _We're two sides of a very beautiful coin._

* * *

Randiriel had, to her astonishment, found herself becoming fast friends with Huidhenel, whom she found could be very funny. She had caught her staring at Legolas as if he reminded her of something else; their talans were nearby, and, to her surprise, she heard Huidhenel cry out the name Suiauthon in her sleep sometimes. She also grew close to Legolas; he told her stories about Mirkwood, their family. The thought was so strange to her; sometimes at night, she lay in her bed thinking about it. She had a father, a sister, an older brother.

Randiriel had been amused no end at the escapades of Suiauthon and Legolas as elflings, and the endless trouble that their little sister Sairalinde had caused them as she was growing up. Legolas had even told her stories about herself as an elfling, and little by little, Randiriel found that she was growing closer to her past, closer to her brother, closer to Huidhenel...closer to herself, really.

Legolas and Huidhenel had told her what had happened to Suiauthon. Randiriel had been surprised to find herself bursting into tears as she heard Huidhenel describe, with tears in her eyes, the death of the brother that Randiriel had never known , who had passed from the world long before her birth, but it hurt her more than she had ever known it could to know that the one who belonged to a name that had kept her alive through all the long years of misery...was dead.

There was also the effort of keeping her romance and Haldir's hidden. Haldir's brother, Rumil and Orophin, would think him a distracted fool for letting Randiriel, who was little more than a child among elves, keep him from his duties. She and Haldir had shared little more than stolen kisses and conversations in either his talan, hers, or the mallorn tree they had sat in, the night they had plighted their troth.

She had found herself coming to a decision, albeit unconsciously. When she had spotted the hobbit Frodo Baggins leaving the Lady's mirror, she had gone at once to Haldir, to tell him what she had decided to do, her decision that would affect both of them so much. Putting a hand to her chest where the pendant he had given her was, she made sure it was hidden, and then knocked on his door.

He opened it.

"Randiriel...what is it?" He looked at her face. "You look pale."

"I can't be pale. I'm a Southron and my skin is tanned brown. You, on the other hand, are always pale."

"What has happened?" he asked urgently.

Randiriel took a deep breath.

"You know that the Fellowship will be leaving in a few days?"

"Yes, I do...what of it? They will be going down the Anduin, will they not?"

"They will...and...Haldir?"

"Yes, meleth nin?"

"Don't...be overly angry at me when I tell you this...but when they leave, I'm going to go with them."

Randiriel looked at Haldir apprehensively. He sat on his bed with his mouth open, until she laughed and pressed her hand under his jaw, and closed it. "Don't do that; it makes you look like an elfling caught stealing sweets, Haldir."

"You...are going...with them?"

"Yes, that's what it is."

"Well, you are not, I won't allow it."

"You cannot tell me what I may or may not do."

"If the one you are to be bonded to cannot tell you, who can?" Haldir pounded at the wall in frustration. "If your father were here, he would keep you under lock and key. No, if you insist, I shall send you to Mirkwood!"

"No, you won't! I _am _going, and you cannot stop me!"

"Oh, yes I can, and I will!"

"Oh, no, you're not going to!"

Their voices had escalated into shouts. "Don't you dare tell me what to do, Haldir! You're betrothed to me, not in control of me!"

"You know nothing of the dangers this world possesses!"

Randiriel felt a growing rage mounting in her body. "Don't tell me what to do! I was beaten for, what, twenty whole years! Every day, if I wasn't quick about my work, Haldir, it would be the whip for me. Do you know that? You've never seen the scars, have you?" Jerking the clasp of her robe open, she bared her back and showed him more than fifty stripes, made long ago on the delicate skin. They were a solid black against the white of her skin. Randiriel did up the clasp at the back of her neck. "I've commanded troops of my own for years-it doesn't matter that they were men, I led them into battle just as stoutly and bravely as the Lord Elrond of Rivendell led his own armies three and a half thousand years ago!

"I've been stabbed, burned, poisoned, knocked out, thrown from horses, thrown from _cliffs, _broken bones, gotten concussions, been tortured repeatedly when I was captured by an enemy tribe, and had to treat my wounded fellows when I was an inch away from death. And why? You aren't used to the idea of a tender _woman _doing all of that, are you? I could have given into the torture, but that would have meant betraying my captain and becoming the bloody wife of a man who was no more than a dog! But I did everything I did, and did it gladly, because it was my duty! I may be young to you, but I have seen more than you can ever see.

"Don't assume that you know what I have seen and what I am capable of doing, _Marchwarden, _because you _don't_! I thought you, of all people, wouldn't see me as less than everyone else, weaker, because I am an elleth! No, a woman, because I'm not an elf! Or maybe because I'm not immortal anymore, you think I am not worthy of this!"

Haldir looked at her, fists balled up in anger, eyes gleaming, daring him to contradict her once again. At the thought of her mortality, an expression of pain washed across his face. Sighing, he sank back down onto his bed, pulling her down to sit beside him, He heard a sniff, and then a muffled "I'm sorry."

"No, I am," he said. "Go. I'll wait for you. Just...try to keep yourself safe...and always remember that I love you. And please believe me when I say that I do not underestimate you, nor have I ever thought you weak because you are a woman. And your mortality makes me think that a blessing such as you are should remain longer upon this earth, but you have accepted the fate that you chose, and that very thing gives me no right to be unhappy with it.""

Randiriel smiled. "That was an impressive rant, was it not?"

Haldir gave her an answering smile. "Yes it was."

"I love you, Haldir, did I ever tell you that?"

"No, I have been deaf until this moment," he said, bending to kiss her on the brow.


	15. Chapter 15

OK...THIS IS RATHER SHORT BUT I HOPE U LIKE IT.

* * *

Randiriel awoke to find her cheek pressed against something firm; poking it, she found it to be Haldir's chest. _I don't remember falling asleep in here_, she thought in confusion. _What happened? All I know was we argued...oh, yes, he agreed to let me go, and then I fell asleep._

She had had very confusing dreams the night before. It had showed two human girls being carried by Huidhenel and herself. Both were badly wounded; Randiriel was covered in blood coming from an arrow wound of the girl she held, who had copper-colored hair and a stark-white skin. Huidhenel was supporting a blonde girl who was very beautiful; what could that mean? She had never seen either of them before; their clothes were dusty and black. They were tattered and much too big for the two girls. Wondering what two humans could possibly be doing in Lothlorien, she slid slightly upward so that she faced Haldir.

She had never seen Haldir asleep before.

They had, occasionally, slept in the same bed before, but she always fell asleep before he did and he always rose before she woke. _He is beautiful when he sleeps, _she thought, _much more so than when he is awake. _She wondered if all elves' faces reverted to the youthful peace of childhood while she slept. Haldir's face, his manner, showed signs of care that never had left him. She remembered that the day after she had spoken in Lorien for the first time, he had stalked about with a face like a thundercloud, so angry had he been at what she had suffered. Randiriel sometimes still woke in the night, her flesh tingling with the memories of past pains. She wondered idly why an elf who had surrendered their immortality could not fade; if it had been any other elleth being tortured in Rhun during the Yusrumnian War, she would have faded within the first few days. But no, her fea had stubbornly clung to her body, which had always healed itself, time and again; at least it retained that much from her years as an elf.

The second dream she had had troubled her still more. It showed her, here, in this talan, fast asleep on the bed. She could not see Haldir anywhere in sight, or anyone else for that matter. At once, from beneath the bed, a tiny elfling, hardly more than two or three years old, had crawled forth into the light. He tried and failed to clamber up on the bed beside her. Then she had seen herself awake and look, puzzled, around, perhaps searching for the elfling. When she spotted him, she swung him up into her arms, while he squealed with joy. When she placed him on the bed, he placed his head contentedly on her chest and then drifted off to sleep. The baby could be no one but her son; he had Haldir's icy-blue eyes, her waving blonde hair, her nose, and Haldir's mouth, a perfect balance of them both.

Haldir shot up from his sleep, breathing hard. Startled, Randiriel fell off the bed, hitting her head on the nightstand. She found herself lifted back off the floor and crushed close to Haldir.

"What happened?" she asked him.

He did not speak for some moments, and then said, "I was in battle...fighting. An Uruk was about to strike me down, and another elf, whose face was covered in a strange helmet, sprang between us, too late to slay the Uruk in time but not too late to take the blow; I killed the Uruk, but it had already killed my savior. I knelt beside the elf and slid off the helmet...and it was you."

* * *

Just to clarify, if anyone didn't get that, that was Galadriel showing them two alternate futures. As Randiriel is going to be leaving with the Fellowship, she will end up with Legolas, Gimli, Huidhenel, Quethiel, and Aragorn in the battle of Helm's deep. So what Randiriel saw in her dream was what would happen if Haldir died in battle and she did not fight; she would have a son and raise him alone after the War of the Ring. What Haldir saw was what would happen if she did fight; she takes the blow and dies within seconds, too fast to bid Haldir farewell. Wanting to pay his respects to the elf who saved his life, Haldir takes off the helmet and then finds it is Randiriel.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I own nothing and if you think I do, go look J. R. R. Tolkien up on Wikipedia. So yeah, please, don't sue me. I have a Killer Lawyer and his name is Gollum, though I prefer to call him Smeagol. He's the sweetest thing ever.

* * *

I am now married to Victor Johns in the eyes of the law.

* * *

To GollumGirl 2003 Coraline: A HUGE THANK YOU FOR ALL THE OC'S. THEY ARE BRILLIANT. *huge stack of virtual OREOS* eat them, eat them! Wait here's a glass of milk, i never eat oreos without milk. I have never had a reviewer who is so awesome! I loved your story by the way...and I offer my consolation for the Lego Shelob.

* * *

The next morning, Randiriel awoke to find that Haldir was no longer beside her. His indentation on the bed was already cool to the touch; he must have been gone for at least an hour.

Before they had gone back to sleep the previous night, Haldir had asked her if she would marry him before leaving. She had agreed at once; the bonding ceremony was to take place later that day. Mulling over what he had said, she got out of bed and began dressing.

_It is best, my love, if we marry now, for we never know what will befall us..._

Randiriel had decided to spend that day training with her brother and with Huidhenel.

She had noticed that Huidhenel had changed since she had woken. She had noticed, also, faint blushes in her brother's cheek whenever he looked at her, and answering ones on her own (although, due to Huidhenel's blood, her blushes were no mere tints of rose) when she looked at him. It still hurt her immensely to know that Suiauthon, the brother whom she had never been able to see, was dead. She wondered how much it must have heard Huidhenel, who had known him and loved him, and had had, for the last many hundred years, had to live without him. Something in her seemed to say that Huidhenel was meant to love another, in time; she had smiled upon seeing her and Legolas, wondering if the two elves she had grown to care for so much could possibly find true happiness with each other, just as she would find, and had found, with Haldir.

_I pray that the Valar have mercy upon u s, and not separate us before my time to die is come. Let us live out the rest of my short years in happiness, and not fear death when it arrives._

* * *

_"Quethiel!" _cried Morwen in exasperation.

Quethiel jumped. "What?"

"You've been dreaming for the last five minutes and haven't heard a single word I said."

"Um, sorry, what did you say?"

Morwen smirked. "Nothing, that's the point. Now tell me, what are you thinking about?"

"Do you promise you won't laugh?" asked Quethiel in a small voice.

Morwen nodded. "I promise."

"I'm in love with the one man in Gondor who will never marry me." said Quethiel.

Her older sister fell off her horse in surprise.

Quethiel stopped Quickfoot and waited for Morwen to clamber back into Yrchbane, listening to her grumbles and curses. "I seriously doubt that. There's only-" Morwen's jaw dropped comically.

"You're in love with Lord Boromir!" she said, although it came out as more of a strangled gasp.

"No...Faramir," Quethiel admitted quietly. "I know you were engaged to him five years ago...I thought you were so gifted by fate to be his wife."

"You were only thirteen then, Quethiel," Morwen chided. "You cannot expect me to believe that you knew anything of love when you were as young as that."

"I know. But it has held onto me all through the years, and I cannot, somehow, seem to forget. I may have had no more than a girlish infatuation toward him then, when I was young, but now it is like a white pine flame, Morwen...it would truly be wonderful if he had loved me, truly, but I cannot find iyt in my heart to begrudge him his happiness, no matter with whom he chooses to find it. He is what holds me up when my heart feels like it will fail, and only the sight of his smile, of his eyes, does that for me. He will probably marry some court lady, who is better for him."

Morwen rode in silence, remembering how upset she had been at being betrothed to Faramir, and the sad looks that she had often seen on Quethiel's face then. And then a slightly sad thought came whispering itself into her mind, that sister had been replaced by first love in her innocent Quethiel's heart. She had known, of course, that it would happen someday, but not this soon, and she had certainly never thought that Quethiel would ever fall in love with the man who had so nearly been Morwen's husband. _You are a fool, Morwen. Quethiel is your sister and will always be; no matter what she has for Faramir, be it only a passing fancy or real love, she will never forget you, and no one will ever take the place that you hold in her heart, you silly girl._

"Nonsense. If he is worthy of you, it may all come right. Faramir will marry whom he loves; he has a will too strong for his father to cow." said Morwen after being lost in thought for some minutes, trying to comfort her sister.

"Not like the lord Boromir," sighed Quethiel. "His will has nearly become melded with his father's, so many years has Denethor been placing thoughts in his mind which are not the truth. If not for us and Faramir, our next Steward would be nothing better than Denethor."

"Things would have been different if the Lady Finduilas had lived," said Morwen quietly.

"I know."

"Things may change." said Morwen bracingly. "Perhaps the Lord Faramir, when we return to Gondor, shall see the beautiful maiden who has graced him with her friendship for all these years, and realize that he feels something more for her than he thought he did."


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I own nothing and if you think I do, go look J. R. R. Tolkien up on Wikipedia. So yeah, please, don't sue me. I have a Killer Lawyer and his name is Gollum, though I prefer to call him Smeagol. He's the sweetest thing ever.

* * *

I am now married to Victor Johns in the eyes of the law.

* * *

To GollumGirl 2003 Coraline: A HUGE THANK YOU FOR ALL THE OC'S. THEY ARE BRILLIANT. *huge stack of virtual OREOS* eat them, eat them! Wait here's a glass of milk, i never eat oreos without milk. I have never had a reviewer who is so awesome! I loved your story by the way...and I offer my consolation for the Lego Shelob...and everything else that Helena has ruined...To all reviewers, every single one of you, COOKIES AND MILK. What type of cookies? Well, Gollum Girl gets oreos, and the rest of you get chocolate covered shortbread...oh my Valar...I would happily pay five bucks for a single piece of shortbread...shortbread with milk...with chocolate...oh, I'm crazy about shortbread! especially chocolate covered shortbread, I could never resist that if my life depended on it.

I decided to ask a question of the chapter.

ANSWER IT IN THE REVIEW OR ELSE!

WHO SHOULD DIE?

RANDIRIEL?

OR HALDIR?

I'm not putting this up on a poll, because...um...well, i WANT REVIEWS! MWA HA HA HA HA! I mean, that is not really such a bad thing, I mean, it is?

* * *

Galadriel was sitting thoughtfully by the Mirror. She had been Scrying for nearly half-an-hour now; wondering, what would become of Randiriel and Haldir. The fact that Randiriel was mortal did not trouble her so much; if she did live, she would life a full and long life by the standards of men. The wedding of Randiriel and Haldir had been held a few days before, and it had been difficult for the elves of Lothlorien to consign themselves to the fact that their marchwarden had only ninety years more to live-and what was more so, that he was happy about it. The fellowship was going to leave the following morning, and Randiriel, though Galadriel well know that Haldir was loath to let her go, was going with them.

Sighing quietly, Galadriel wondered how long the two of them had. She had seen Haldir fall in battle, seen Randiriel with child, and then a later image had showed the elleth and an elfling who could only be Haldir's son. Then she had seen a future when Randiriel was the one who fell, protecting Haldir, and seen Haldir's eyes when he discovered that Randiriel had fallen. His eyes were empty and broken, tears falling from them. She shuddered slightly, hoping that Haldir's eyes would never become like that. Yet once more she passed her hand over the water and steeled herself to look within its depths. What she saw puzzled her slightly; narrowing her eyes slightly, she brought her face closer to the surface of the mirror.

What she saw was strange...two orcs. Galadriel let a hiss escape her teeth, remembering how her oldest daughter had nearly been tortured into insanity by the vile beasts. Yet these orcs seemed to be those mutilated elves whom she held nothing but pity for. They were tall, slender, agile. They must have possessed iron wills to still move like elves. She saw them fall to the ground with arrows in their breasts; and then two elleths hastened into view, kneeling beside them. Both were masked. At once, the hands of the taller one flew to her mouth and she tore away the beaklike helmets, revealing not the twisted faces of orcs, but rather the delicate features of two young human women, not older than nineteen or twenty. Each elleth picked up one of the wounded girls, and staggered back into the forest that they had come out of.

_The mirror never showed me things that I could never hope to understand, _she thought in frustration. She wondered which reality she had seen for Randiriel and Haldir would come to be...the child she had seen...would he ever exist? She knew without a doubt that if Randiriel remained safe in Lorien, even if Haldir left to go to whatever war she had seen, he would. But Haldir...Randiriel could never forgive herself if she lived and he died...just as he could never forgive himself if she died and he lived...he would fade, perhaps.

And who were the two human women she had seen, young maidens, born of Rohan, perhaps? Why were they dressed as orcs and so near Lothlorien. Were they perhaps seeking Lothlorien? The glass once again darkened and Galadriel lowered her eyes to it again wearily.

Now, she saw a man, gravely ill. He gave the impression of having been powerfully built once, but having been wasted away by years of sickness. He was deathly white under his tanned skin; his face was nearly bloodless , and his thick locks of black hair fell lifeless upon his shoulders. By his side was a woman who appeared to be slightly younger, resembling the elder of the two human girls she had seen earlier.

At last, annoyed with the fact that _nothing _she had seen that day made the _slightest _bit of sense-apart from what she had seen of Randiriel and Haldir-she hurled her pitcher into the basin, shattering the image and sending water splashing everywhere, especially onto her. She gasped as it hit her and then winced as the shock of the seeing magic ran through her.

She, of all people, should have known better than to do that.

A small sound startled her, and she turned to see Randiriel, standing with a white robe drawn about her shoulders, her deep golden hair, which contrasted oddly with her tanned skin, covered by a white cloth. Tilting her head slightly, Galadriel observed a strange glow in her cheeks and then sighed, glad for one moment that Randiriel was no longer a true elf.

"What is it?" asked Galadriel, standing and walking toward her.

"I only wish to know if it is best that I go with the fellowship," said Randiriel quietly. She drew her white shawl closer around her and shivered slightly, even though it was not cold.

"You have felt Haldir's thoughts on this, then..." she said with a sigh. "Randiriel, do not doubt yourself. What is meant to be will be, no matter what you try to do to stop it. Whether you are meant to perish or live, or whether Haldir is...it is all written in annals too deep in time for us too read, child. No, do not think I know what is to come and am withholding it from you," she said. "I can tell you that if you fall in the battles that will sweep Middle-Earth before the year is out, your husband will be grieved...but that much you could have surmised for yourself. If you live, you and Haldir are meant to have a son who will change the fate of this land...for better or for worse, I cannot tell."

"Oh," said Randiriel. "I do not understand," she said, beseechingly. "Please help me!"

"I know no more than you," said Galadriel. Her heart failed her then, wondering if Randiriel would read the truth in her eyes. "If I did, my child, I would tell you, but," she said with a small, faint smile, "I can only spew what I am sure you think to be nonsense, the fact that all of this was ordained by the Valar, or by Fate, or whatever poor entity beings like you and I choose to blame for all of our misfortunes."

Randiriel nodded then, and walked away, back to the talan that she now shared with Haldir.

_I know one thing, Randiriel of Mirkwood...you were meant to go on this quest and to face whatever comes to you. I wish I could tell you what I know...that the son that you have seen in your dreams and that I have looked upon in my glass...he lives within you even now..._

* * *

Huidhenel sat alone in her talan, looking up at the ceiling. It was on days like this in Lorien, days where such peace, albeit a guarded peace, wafted in the very air...that she remembered Suiauthon. Yet his memory was becoming less like a paining scar, and a great deal more like a cherished gown outgrown by a child. It was strange, but her heart seemed to be healing now. Even though, unlike other living beings, she did not truly have one.

What was it about Legolas? What was it about his laughter that could not help but evoke a ripple of merriment from her? Why did his smile make it impossible for her to remain in the same room without smiling herself?

Why did she feel as if the world was growing, somehow, more beautiful for every day she spent with him, even if it was still the same?

Why did she see not Suiauthon's face in her dreams, as she had done for the past so many years, but his?

And most of all, why did she feel as if she were falling in love?

* * *

Morwen and Quethiel had been riding quickly and speedily over the last five days.

"I think we should approach Lothlorien within the next week or so if we keep up this pace," shouted Quethiel over the rush of the wind.

"It will be a little bit longer than that," answered Morwen. "I think I hear shrieking...do you?"

Quethiel reined Quickfoot in, and he slowed to a halt. So did Yrchbane, and the two horses and two girls listened. There did seem to be something more chilling and high pitched than the sound of the wind itself. Suddenly, Yrchbane began to neigh and stamp, and the girls looked at each other in horror. The two girls had had a passable imitation of that shriek many times, from Foigred, in his younger days when he had still been a soldier and had not yet come down with Combsbane.

"Orcs," whispered Quethiel.

Morwen looked around. They were riding on flat land; aside from a few large boulders, there was nowhere to hide. Quickly she jumped off Yrchbane and led him to the spot; Quethiel rode Quickfoot after her. Soon, they were hidden, and could hear the shrieks coming closer.

"I don't think there are that many of them, from the sound of it," said Morwen, peering cautiously around her boulder and seeing a dust cloud in the distance. 'Come on; if we are quick, we can slay them all, and not waste arrows."

Quethiel took a deep breath and nodded.

Morwen steeled herself, nocking an arrow, as did Quethiel. When the group of orcs approached-there were, to Morwen's astonishment, not more than fifteen-she and Quethiel let loose a volley of arrows. At last, the last orc standing was pierced through the throat by one of Quethiel's arrows, and the girls looked at each other in shock.

They had slain a band of orcs.

Morwen's eyes had suddenly lit up. "Quethiel! I have the perfect idea...let us take some Orcish garments...they must have spare jerkins, and our own black trousers I packed will do...and we can take their helmets and perhaps a sword each. If ever we met orcs, they would not attack us and we would not have to waste our arrows...and you know we are both rubbish in close combat."

Quethiel nodded, and then said, "But how many orcs have horses?"

"We may have to leave them, at some point, and then the orcish disguises will serve us."

* * *

In Lorien, Galadriel shook her head as she looked upon the two in her mirror.

_Or, human girl, simply get you into trouble._


	18. Chapter 18

Okay, this is kinda random but whatever. Oneshot. Poetryfic. In the future Haldir thinks about the son he would have had and the wife he lost.

Perhaps I see you when the world has been harsh,

harsher than living hearts should ever be.

in those times it is your laughter that sustains me,

your eyes that are the only flame that warms my soul

The waving of your hands the only wind which could cool me,

the dream of your existence the sole thing which gives me light

how is it that I can see you so clearly,

only a shadow of a future gone from my clutching fingers?

I would beg you to vanish from my sight

if looking upon you did not give me all I would ever hope to have

stay for me. It does not matter that this day I see

will never come to pass. I may dream of it

and pray for it not to taunt me, but you are my life,

you are my soul, you are my world,

and you will always be.

Two hearts stopped before their time,

one made weary by the world,

the other which had yet to greet it,

two souls banished from a world that they loved,

leaving one behind, to mourn them both.

* * *

Eh, I know that was rubbish, but I felt like writing it anyway. AND THIS DOES NOT MEAN RANDIRIEL WILL DIE! She may...or she may not...she may...or she may not...honestly, guys, just go pick a daisy and do the whole he loves me he loves me not thing to find out which one dies (smirk)

On a sadder note, Vic dumped his whole Dramione fic and locked himself out of his account. Bugger.


	19. Chapter 19

Randiriel was kneeling on the floor in the middle of her talan, where she no longer slept, but still kept her things. Her things were strewn about the room as she tried to decide what to take. She had already decided what clothes to take; six breeches, six tunics, a leather jerkin, underclothes, and a cloak. Due to the delicacy of Elven fabric, she was able to roll all of this (minus the jerkin) into a roll she could hold in one hand. No, she was having trouble deciding which weapons she wanted to take with her.

She had decided to limit herself to three; a bow, a dagger, and a sword. She had already set aside her bow, but was having trouble deciding between her daggers and three swords. Sighing, she picked up her twin blades. They were the weapons she knew best from Harad, though she had had to fight with all of them. At last she relented, placing them on her bed and putting the other swords back into her closet. She decided to take two daggers, one to keep in her belt and one to keep in her boots.

Her packing finished, she bundled everything she wasn't going to take into her closet and then left her talan. There was one thing that she wanted to do before she left Lothlorien.

* * *

"I feel as if I don't want to leave," said Frodo, as he packed his things in the talan that he shared with Merry, Sam, and Pippin.

"Do you know, the elf girl's going with us," said Pippin confidentially, folding a tunic.

Frodo frowned. "Was there a chance that Huidhenel was going to leave after she was hurt?"

"No, not Huidhenel, the other one, Haldir's wife. The one who looks a bit strange because of her dark skin and her blonde hair, who often wears a shawl over her head? She's coming with us."

"Well, it will be a good thing to have more elves on the journey," Frodo said. "If we had all been Legolas during the Battle of Moria, then Gandalf might not have..." He trailed off, his voice trembling. The other hobbits fought to keep their voices steady as they patted Frodo comfortingly on his shoulder.

"It wasn't your fault, Mr. Frodo," said Sam.

"I know, Sam, it's just..." Frodo broke off his sentence as strange music danced through the entrance to the talan. Looking at each other, they all got up and crept out of the talan; it was near midnight, and the full moon seemed to hang directly overhead. They all strained their ears, and presently they could make out something, although it did not sound like either Westron or Sindarin, neither did it sound elvish at all. It was a strange cry, tender, glad, and something else that the hobbits could not quite place.

"_Kanne, kanmaniye...kannurangai ponne,_

_Mayilo, thogai mayilo, _

_Kuyilo, koovum kuyilo_

_Nilavo, nilavin oliyo, _

_Imaiyo, imaiyin kanavo..._

_Malaro...malarin amudho_

_Kaniyo, senkaniyin suvaiyo..."_

Looking up, they saw a single figure outlined atop a small hill, singing with a face upraised to the moon, dancing slowly with fluid movements. They gasped when shadows rose about her, circling her, enveloping and swallowing her. They heard the sound of a war horn joining her voice, though she had no instrument and there was no one else with her, and, inexplicably, an elven flute. At the end of her song, the shadows fell away, leaving only the elleth standing there, alone, silent, and still.

They walked up toward her.

"Randiriel," they said in shock when the figure turned to greet them. Randiriel smiled and sat down on the ground, patting the grass beside her with her hands.

"Join me," she said. "The night is lonely."

"Why do you not go back to Haldir in your talan?" asked Pippin. Randiriel's ears did not miss Merry whispering, "Shut up, Pip," in Pippin's ear.

"Because Haldir was called away on duty to-night to watch the western border," she said, as the hobbits clustered around her. Due to the persistent chill, Sam and Frodo leaned against her back and then huddle together, while Pippin and Merry put their heads in her lap.

"What were you doing?" asked Merry curiously. "What language were you singing in?"

"I was remembering my days as a Haradic general of war," she said, smiling at the looks which crossed their faces. Her fingers toyed absently with Merry's and Pippin's hair. "I was the leading commander of Harad, as well as an advisor to the king...although, he was not really called a king...what we addressed him as would be the Westron equivalent of War Lord, perhaps."

"Were you happy there?" asked Pippin, being lulled to sleep by the gentle pats on his head.

"Yes, I was happy," said Randiriel with a small laugh. "I endured more pain in those fifty years than I had ever endured as a beaten slave, but somehow I was happy. I was a queen in my own right, and the _krigsherre_...the warlord...deemed me Untouchable because he did not wish to lose his most talented general and his right hand to marriage. Several men who had been suitors protested, but the _krigsherre's _word was law, you see."

"And what happened after that?" asked Merry.

"I fell into a fever from an infected wound," Randiriel said with a small sigh. "One of the commanders who served under me realized it, and knowing that the _krigsherre _would have his head if I died, he sent me to our citadel, out of danger on my horse. He gave the horse a command to go home, which, as a intelligenrt horse, it did, but he had forgotten that my horse had been an elvish filly that I had tamed. My horse Sunnlia took me to Lothlorien, which was her true home. And that was where I met Haldir. That was nearly eighty years ago now," said Randiriel, beginning to fall into slumber herself, singing as she had done to children sometimes in the past, before she had taken her place by the side of the throne of Harad...

"_Kanne, kanmaniye...kannurangai ponne,_

_Mayilo, thogai mayilo,_

_Kuyilo, koovum kuyilo_

_Nilavo, nilavin oliyo,_

_Imaiyo, imaiyin kanavo..._

_Malaro...malarin amudho_

_Kaniyo, senkaniyin suvaiyo..."_

_"_What does it mean?" asked Frodo, who was now the only hobbit remaining awake.

"My darling, the jewel of my eyes,

Go to sleep, my dear precious one

Are you a peacock? or its beautiful plumage?

Are you a cuckoo bird?

The chirping cuckoo bird?

Are you the moon?

Or are you the moonlight?

Are you a flower?

Or its sustaining nectar?

Are you the fruit?

Or are you its sweetness?"

By the time Randiriel had finished, Frodo was fast asleep.

Randiriel remained sitting there for a while, looking up at the moon which had been her solace ever since her tormented childhood. She remembered sitting in Legolas's lap and watching the stars, long ago when she was an elfling. She remembered what a fellow slave caled Iasbrin, her only friend in her master's household, had said to her just before he died.

_"Remember, Randiriel, no matter how far apart we are, we all see the same stars, the same sun, the same moon. It takes those things that we can never touch but only hold dear to bind us, the people of Middle Earth, together. My love shall be with you forever...perhaps I ought to pass my role as your guardian to the moon you love."_

She was not alone, she realized. Never was she alone. Iasbrin had not ceased to guard her, even though she had only been a still-immortal elfling when he had died. Haldir's love always hovered around her, and that of Elensar and Maeglin. She wondered how her family had loved her; she barely remembered her parents or her sister at all. It had been so strange, after so many years of solitary silence, she found herself loved so much.

It was as if she had been the lonely moon, only to find that she was a dearly beloved star.


	20. Chapter 20

So, guys, I just felt like being nice and giving you another chappie. This was co written with Vic Johns so it might not be the same style that I regularly do, but my style and his are pretty similar, so just shoot me a PM if it is too strikingly different and we will no longer co write...well...we will co write other works, but from the beginning so there are no differences in the writing style halfway through the story.

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing and if I did, I would be brilliant, not alive and I'd be a guy. Unless Christopher owns it, that is.

* * *

I got promoted at work! And I've only been with my company for two months! Yay me!

* * *

Huidhenel stared at her hand in astonishment.

She was alone in her talan; being the only female member of the fellowship, she had been given the luxury of her own talan. What surprised her was that she had just cut her hand on the sharp edge of her broken sword.

And she had begun to bleed.

She always did bleed when cut; it was particularly painful, due to the heat of her blood, which she could not feel unless it touched her skin. However, she bore it well because she would heal nearly instantly. But she was surprised to find that she felt very little pain, and looking at the wide gash explained why. Instead of brilliant scarlet, glowing fire, what had come from her hand was quite ordinary red blood, which gleamed silver when the light caught it. She looked dumbly at the runnels of blood snaking down her arm and then sank to the floor in shock.

Huidhenel knew that she was immortal, like the elves. She remembered that the day she had realized exactly what Suiauthon meant to her, many years ago, she had lost her forked tongue. Her tongue had resembled a snake's slightly; one reason that Suiauthon had been somewhat afraid of her when they first met. Looking at her stained clothes and blood made her heart drop.

It was as if, whenever she truly loved, she lost some of the strange qualities her father had created her with. She remembered that when she was a few years old and had been spending all her time with him, she had lost the gleam of her eyes which allowed her to see in the dark. She had regretted it a great deal, for in Mordor, nearly everything was dark.

Then, when she had met Sharku a few decades after that, the blood red of her eyes had changed to black. When she had met Suiauthon, the forked end of her tongue had rounded out to become a perfectly normal tongue; and now she knew without a doubt that whatever sort of love she felt for Legolas, she did truly love him. The ones she loved could be counted by the traits she had lost, and now the fire of Mordor no longer ran in her veins.

It was elven blood, now.

Seeing that that the gash had closed and no trace of it remained (at least she had not lost the ability to heal herself much more quickly than even an elf could) she sighed with relief. She knew that the more people she loved, the more like an elf she would become. She had surmised that if it ever got far enough for her body to become completely like that of an elf, the second to last thing to change would be the color of her eyes yet again, lightening from black to a dark brown or blue. The last thing would be her hair, which would be a deep brown.

The door of her talan crashed open; the hobbits and Boromir stood in the doorway. As they saw her crouched numbly on the ground, soaked in blood, they gave a cry and as one, rushed towards her, Boromir hoisting her up and the hobbits sitting her firmly on the bed.

"What _happened?_" asked Boromir, looking into her eyes and frowning at the confused expression that he saw there. "What did you do?"

"I cut myself on the broken sword," Huidhenel answered numbly, looking at her hand.

"Where?"

"On my hand."

"It's gone now," said Frodo in surprise.

"Yes, it is," said Huidhenel. Boromir was looking at her in puzzlement. He knew, as well as she did, that after her blood ceased all contact with her body, it would turn to stone.

Whatever was staining Huidhenel's tunic and breeches was definitely not stone.

"You bled," he said. It was more of a statement than a question.

"I bled," she said slowly.

* * *

Randiriel awoke with a piercing cry. At once, a pair of arms were wrapped about her. Surrendering to the fear that her dream had instilled in her, she buried her face in Haldir's chest.

"What happened?" he asked. His face was worried; they had both been having strange dreams of late and they were too clear, too defined, too related to the danger sweeping Middle Earth, to be mere dreams. Haldir was of the opinion that they were visions of the future.

"I saw myself," said Randiriel, her voice muffled. "I was here in this talan, reading a book to an elfling, and when he fell asleep I sang him my Haradic lullaby...he had your eyes exactly, they could have been taken from your face and put onto his. And you weren't there...I could tell from the look that I saw in my face that you weren't there, that you would never be there..."

"I was dead?"

Randiriel nodded, squeezing her eyes closed against the image that she had seen.

"I have suspected it all today," said Haldir, watching her face closely. "I have noticed that your face seems lighter, and the light of the Eldar seems to be present in your skin...do you think you could possibly be with child?"

The thought had not struck her.

"No," she said finally. "If I were, I would have known, all elves do."

Haldir nodded, not pointing out that she was not really an elf. "That is all right, then. If you were, you would tell me?" His eyes sought hers searchingly. "You would not go with the Fellowship if you were carrying our child? For whatever reason?"

"I would always tell you, and I would not go on the quest." she said honestly. "I would never do it, I could never forgive myself if my child died before ever getting to see the world."

"I know. I am sorry I doubted you. I shall take you at your word."

"Don't be; I would think so, too, if I were you...but you are right, that glow in my skin is strange ... I do not know why it is there."

* * *

_Thank goodness she is not a true elf...an elf would have known of the child, whereas Randiriel...she would not..._


	21. Chapter 21

So, guys, I just felt like being nice and giving you another chappie. This was co written with Vic Johns so it might not be the same style that I regularly do, but my style and his are pretty similar, so just shoot me a PM if it is too strikingly different and we will no longer co write...well...we will co write other works, but from the beginning so there are no differences in the writing style halfway through the story.

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing and if I did, I would be brilliant, not alive and I'd be a guy. Unless Christopher owns it, that is.

* * *

I got promoted at work! And I've only been with my company for two months! Yay me!

* * *

On the next morning, when the Fellowship of nine, with Randiriel in addition, set off, Galadriel presented them all with gifts. To them all she gave grey elven cloaks, and gave daggers to the hobbits, a gem of the elves for Aragorn...and the most beautiful, a crystal phial filled with the light of Earendil to Frodo. To Huidhenel, she gave a pair of boots that would never wear and always let her go unseen, unless she walked in plain sight and did not even try to conceal herself. To Randiriel, she gave a curved scimitar, built in the fashion of the Haradic warriors, but made out of mithril, so that it seemed to shine with an unearthly light.

Then Randiriel approached her husband for one last farewell.

"Goodbye, Haldir," she said hugging him tightly. "I will miss you."

"Then do not go," he whispered into her hair. She could hear the tears barely veiled behind his words.

"I have to," said Randiriel, trying to memorize the warm, safe feeling of his arms around her. "You know it is my duty." Then she made a feeble attempt at a joke. "If they left without me, the _krigsherre _of Harad, if he could see me now, would rave and rant and then send me out after them on the fastest horse that we possessed, even it it wasn't a horse of the army."

He chuckled softly and then kissed her gently, searching her eyes, though she could not tell for what. At last, they broke apart and Randiriel headed for the boats, though not without looking back at him several times only to see an encouraging smile she knew would break down the moment that she was out of sight.

She got into a boat with Huidhenel, Merry, and Pippin, and then Huidhenel began to row, fairly fast too, so that their boat was soon at the head of the little procession. Randiriel took up her oars and began to row too, and the three boats snaked down the river with the twisting currents.

Very soon, Randiriel became aware that something, or someone was following them. She stared out into the twilight, trying to find whatever it was. Her eyesight had improved slightly over the last few days, which surprised her a little. She soon located a log of wood that seemed to have feet attached to it, and a cold chill seemed to slide down her throat and settle in her stomach.

"Huidhenel," she whispered softly, trying to be nearly silent. "Huidhenel, what is that?"

Huidhenel's eyes, though they had lost their catlike ability to see clearly in the dark, could see much better at night than Randiriel's could. She soon found the lump of wood that Randiriel had indicated, and at once she hissed sharply and ceased to row.

"It's Gollum," she said quietly, looking at the lump of wood, which had nearly stopped its progress, as if whatever was clinging on to the log had begun to tread water when it realized it was being watched.

"You're not going to go after him again, are you?" asked Randiriel disapprovingly.

"No, not now," said Huidhenel. "But I am going to keep a close eye on him."

With that, they stopped for the night in the forest.

* * *

Morwen and Quethiel were still travelling. They went on foot now, rather than on horseback. Quethiel's tender feet had developed blisters; Morwen had offered to lead both horses so that Quethiel could rest, but she had stubbornly refused. Both were now dressed as orcs; they had sidestepped several attacks merely because they had met no human on their travels, and whatever orcs they had encountered had let them pass after a suspicious look at the way they were built. They had had, however, to hide the horses and then wait until the orcs they passed were gone before coming back and reclaiming them. An orc with a horse would be an extremely unusual thing, for horses could not tolerate the creatures.

"This _is _the right forest? Lothlorien should be somewhere upriver, shouldn't it?"

"Yes, it will be." said Morwen.

"Let's find a place to camp for the night," said Quethiel. "Come on, Morwen, we must rise early tomorrow. We light even reach Lothlorien in two or three days, four at most."

Morwen nodded, making up a bed for herself, while Quethiel made up another right next to it. They plunged deep into their blankets, huddling together for warmth, while the horses slept on their feet after a satisfactory meal of dry feed, grass, and apples. The orc garments they had found were surprisingly clean and not at all smelly; they had, apparently, not been worn before at all, and they were warm and comfortable to sleep in.

"Quethiel?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think Uncle will return to being a soldier when he recovers?"

"I don't know; it's been a good five years since he left the armies, long before he came down with Combsbane...he left shortly before your engagement to Faramir, didn't he? Morwen, I think that when we go back with the mallorn leaves and the soil from Lothlorien, he will want to enjoy a simple, peaceful life away from a bed, but I doubt that he will want to return, not even to the Guard. I think that he will just want to live happily with you and me and Mother."

"You are right; I shouldn't worry about it," said Morwen with a sigh. "After having his body broken for so long I doubt that he will want to risk breaking it again."

"Morwen?"

"Yes, Quethiel?" asked Morwen, who was beginning to drift off to sleep.

"I am glad that you are my sister, and that you are my friend," said Quethiel softly, evidently beginning to fall into slumber herself.

"I could never be one without the other, and I am glad to have you too," said Morwen before she closedher eyes.


	22. Chapter 22

So, guys, I just felt like being nice and giving you another chappie. This was co written with Vic Johns so it might not be the same style that I regularly do, but my style and his are pretty similar, so just shoot me a PM if it is too strikingly different and we will no longer co write...well...we will co write other works, but from the beginning so there are no differences in the writing style halfway through the story.

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing and if I did, I would be brilliant, not alive and I'd be a guy. Unless Christopher owns it, that is.

* * *

I got promoted at work! And I've only been with my company for two months! Yay me!

* * *

THE SOUTHRON USED HERE IS AN ACTUAL LANGUAGE I SPEAK, TRANSLATIONS WILL BE AT THE BOTTOM. I have not found any reference to Southron as a language anywhere, so I just used an existing language.

* * *

The first night that the Fellowship camped on the banks of the Anduin, Huidhenel and Randiriel lay awake. All three thought they could hear something, or someone, moving about in the woods not too far away.

"Randiriel!" said Huidhenel, shortly after dawn, before the others awoke. "I can hear breathing, about thirty or forty feet way."

"Yes, I thought I could too." Randiriel's voice sounded drowsy.

"Te kaya ahe?" said Huidhenel. Randiriel's eyebrows shot up in surprise and she sat upright.

"Apana daksini bolata?" she asked. Huidhenel nodded.

"Majha vidala mala sikhle pratyeka bolata...Zhouya ka'apan?"

"Hoya, tsul, mipan yenar."

The two set off, armed with their bows and daggers, following their ears. Huidhenel at once drew in a surprised breath and motioned Randiriel to hide behind a tree. "Orcs. Ekatra dona, tethe."

"Te vicitra disata...pun ka, mala nai mythe..." Randiriel had leaned out from behind her tree and looked at them.

"Draw your arrow," whispered Huidhenel. They both did so, and their aim at the two orcs would have been perfect if Huidhenel had not tripped over a root, accidentally loosing her own arrow in the process and skewing Randiriel's aim so that her arrow went backwards into the woods instead of forward. The two orcs had not time for more than a pair of strangled cries before one of them fell to the ground...but at once Randiriel gasped in shock and ran towards them, kneeling beside them. The taller orc had been hit high in the shoulder, and the second had not been hit at all. The smaller one shouted accusingly at Randiriel,

"You killed her! You killed my sister!" The strange orc threw herself down on the ground. "Breathe, Morwen, breathe!"

Morwen...

Randiriel tore away the orc's helmet, revealing not the black face of an orc, but the pale, slightly tanned visage of a slight, panicked human girl. With a cry the girl bared the face of the other, whose eyes were open and staring about.

"What happened?" the wounded girl asked. Huidhenel came up beside them, guilt etched in every corner of her face.

"I'm sorry...I thought you were orcs and..."

"Damn," swore the girl. "I should have thought of that...are you elves?" Suddenly her eyes lit up. She turned to the other, who nodded encouraging. She swallowed and then spoke. "My uncle is dying...and a cure in Lothlorien is the only thing that can save him."

* * *

TRANSLATIONS

"Te kaya ahe?" said Huidhenel. Randiriel's eyebrows shot up in surprise and she sat upright. (What is that?)

"Apana daksini bolata?" she asked. Huidhenel nodded. (You speak southern?)

"Majha vidala mala sikhle pratyeka bolata...Zhouya ka'apan?"(My father taught me every spoken language...should we go?)

"Hoya, tsul, mipan yenar." (Yes, come, I'll go too.)

"Orcs. Ekatra dona, tethe." (Orcs. Two together, over there.)

"Te vicitra disata...pun ka, mala nai mythe..." Randiriel had leaned out from behind her tree and looked at them. (They look strange but I don't know why.)

Hoping these translations are comprehensible and that you have a nice day and did not find this chapter too annoyingly short.


	23. Chapter 23

So, guys, I just felt like being nice and giving you another chappie. This was co written with Vic Johns so it might not be the same style that I regularly do, but my style and his are pretty similar, so just shoot me a PM if it is too strikingly different and we will no longer co write...well...we will co write other works, but from the beginning so there are no differences in the writing style halfway through the story.

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing and if I did, I would be brilliant, not alive and I'd be a guy. Unless Christopher owns it, that is.

* * *

I got promoted at work! And I've only been with my company for two months! Yay me!

* * *

THE SOUTHRON USED HERE IS AN ACTUAL LANGUAGE I SPEAK, TRANSLATIONS WILL BE AT THE BOTTOM. I have not found any reference to Southron as a language anywhere, so I just used an existing language.

* * *

_She was standing on a battlefield. How strange...she did not remember this one in all her long years of life. She saw a woman and a man, both human, both ensconced in helmets and mail, fighting side by side. The woman seemed to be trying with all her might to protect the man, who seemed to be wounded in some way. At last, the woman was stabbed through the stomach and fell to the ground._

_The man turned in a last effort to slay her killer, before he fell to the ground beside her, spattered with orc blood, with his own, and with hers. The woman was breathing but faintly, and as the man pushed himself up and looked into her eyes, they went glazed, and with a whispered "Goodbye, Boromir," her breathing ceased._

_At once the scene shifted and she no longer looked upon the dead woman and the grieving man. She stood upon a parapet, watching an ellon and an elleth definding a fortress...was it Helm's Deep? She had only seen it once long ago, and she could not remember how it had looked, exactly. But it could have been...the elleth turned at the sound of a Haradic war cry and then screamed out, "Huidhenel! Huidhenel, throw me my horn right now!"_

_Another elleth, with hair as black as the night around them, struggled at her belt, trying to free a white bone horn she had tied to it. At last, she got it loose and threw it to the other, who caught it deftly and then put it to her lips. The sound of a thousand horns seemed to drift from it, and all the human voices out in the night ceased. She hung the horn back at her waist and then began to speak in a strange language._

_"Mi apala prabhu ahe, ani tumhi mala pranaya karila. Tutala ke homa paha!"_

_It was strange. Where there had been a massive army of orcs, and behind them, a smaller army of men, there was now a tumultuous battle. It seemed as if the humans had turned upon the orcs after hearing the elleth's strange speech. The elleth had raised her sword and launched into another torrent of the strange language, with frequent blasts on her horn, as to raise the morale of all the human and elven fighters there. At last, she stopped, threw the horn back across to the elf who had had it originally, and then began to fight. There seemed to be a light about her skin which was making itself known through the slit in her helmet._

_It seemed as if she had grown weary of the helmet, for she tore it away. It was Randiriel, she could see now. She was fighting like a madman, with the twin blades that had earned her fame years ago as a Haradic general. Like a dancer in a sickening performance of death, Randiriel swayed this way and that, her furiously spinning blades even deflecting arrows that were directed at her from the orcs below. The expression on her face was inhuman, bloodthirsty, and at once she knew that this was an expression that had crossed Randiriel's face many times before._

_The other elleth, meanwhile, was doing something else. She had gone yet higher up the fortress, and called out in an ugly tongue which would have turned her stomach, if she had been there in person and not in a dream. The clouds seemed to converge above her, and it promptly began to storm, rain pouring down. All fires were soon extinguished. Satisfied, the elleth lowered her hands, though the rain did not stop._

_"Please, Lady Huidhenel, do not call the rain!" came a voice from below. "It is difficult enough fighting as it is!"_

_"I just saved all of your lives; thank me!" yelled Huidhenel. She clambered down and rejoined the battle, pausing sometimes to blink her eyes free of the water that poured down on them all.  
_

_Randiriel, meanwhile, was beginning to tire. It was evident that she was surprised at that fact, and at once an expression of complete shock crossed her face and she stumbled. The momentary distraction cost her dearly, for without the protection of her moving blades, she was open to arrows. A single archer shot her down, and she fell._

_Huidhenel let loose a piercing scream which was at once echoed from the orcs themselves. Huidhenel no longer looked like an elleth, nor did her face resemble anything human. She had changed into a monstrous black beast, throwing itself from the parapet and plunging on pitch colored wings toward the orcs. At the same time, there came a cry. "The elves of Lothlorien have come!"_

_Huidhenel had breathed fire upon all of the orcs and was soaring over them yet again. Randiriel, lying where she had fallen, struggled to raise her head as she heard again, "The elves of Lorien!"_

_"Haldir," she managed to murmur. Another elf, with long blonde hair, stooped and picked her up with a man and a dwarf beside him. They defended him as he ran with all speed into the fortress, carrying Randiriel._

_"Hold on, Vande Vanya, my Haeronwen," he said in her ear. "I cannot lose you, not again."_

_"Haldir," said Randiriel in a ragged voice. "Please. I must see him...I was stupid, he saw it long ago and I didn't realize until...until the arrow..." Her eyes closed and she whispered faintly, "Take care of yourself, brother. I have, through my stupidity, murdered a child whose eyes never opened on this world..." Her voice broke and tears leaked from beneath her eyelids. Then an angry tone entered her voice, though she was far too weak to speak forcefully. "Galadriel knew. Why didn't she tell me? A child is a precious thing...she let me go, knowing I was to be the mother of the first elfling in over three hundred years..."_

_"We'll save you in time, and the baby," said the elf who was carrying her. "Hold on, sister, don't close your eyes, stay with me, Randiriel!"_

_The party disappeared into the fortress, and the last audible sentence was, "Get a healer at once!"_

_Again, the scene shifted. Haldir was running, up the stairs, through the battle, into Helm's Deep. Randiriel was on a bed in a torn tunic and trousers, her hair damp, the glow that had been present in her skin nearly faded._

_"What has happened?" he asked. In answer, a healer bared a large wound in her chest._

_"Haldir, I must tell you," she said. "She is in a coma now; we are doing all that we can to save her, but both of them might not make it through."_

_"Both...who else has been hurt? Legolas? Oh, dear Valar, was it Orophin or Rumil?"_

_"Your wife is with child."_

_"What?"_

_"She could not have told you," said the healer sympathetically. "She did not know...she realized it about halfway through the battle. Legolas told me why she had become distracted, and how she realized..."_

_"How?" He could barely whisper the words._

_"The child kicked for the first time...I must tell you now, that if she lives...the child will almost certainly not live." she said, tears in her eyes._

* * *

Galadriel awoke with a start.


	24. Chapter 24

So, guys, I just felt like being nice and giving you another chappie. This was co written with Vic Johns so it might not be the same style that I regularly do, but my style and his are pretty similar, so just shoot me a PM if it is too strikingly different and we will no longer co write...well...we will co write other works, but from the beginning so there are no differences in the writing style halfway through the story.

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing and if I did, I would be brilliant, not alive and I'd be a guy. Unless Christopher owns it, that is.

* * *

I got promoted at work! And I've only been with my company for two months! Yay me!

* * *

THE SOUTHRON USED HERE IS AN ACTUAL LANGUAGE I SPEAK, TRANSLATIONS WILL BE AT THE BOTTOM. I have not found any reference to Southron as a language anywhere, so I just used an existing language.

* * *

_I will not be updating as often now, as with my promotion my workload has definitely increased. I will probably be able to update maybe only once a week or so._

* * *

Randiriel and Huidhenel, along with Morwen and Quethiel, were walking back to the camp to find some healing supplies for Morwen. Quethiel was fine, only shaken, and they had said that they did possess what the two needed; Randiriel had a box full of mallorn leaves for healing tea, and Sam had been given a box full of Lothlorien soil.

When they came into the clearing where the others were, Morwen could not stop a glad cry from leaving her throat. She dropped her pack along with Yrchbane's reins, and ran with all speed toward Boromir, with Quethiel at her heels. Boromir was tackled to the ground by the two girls, and when he realized who exactly was attacking him, he laughed and put an arm around them both.

"So, how are my sister and almost-sister-in-law?" That had been a long-standing joke between Boromir and Morwen; the Aeromer family had lost its fortunes merely six months before Morwen and Faramir were to be married, and preparations and planning had already begun for their wedding. Nobody had been more relieved than the couple in question when the marriage had been called off, but ever since that day Boromir had called her 'my almost-sister-in-law,' when he wanted to tease her, which was, admittedly, quite often.

"You know them?" asked Randiriel, surprised.

"Yes, I know them...Quethiel is as good as my sister...and Morwen here is betrothed to Faramir." He laughed at the glare that Morwen sent him. "Or was. The engagement was broken two years ago."

The others studied the new and jovial Boromir throughout the day, how he scolded Quethiel for setting out alone, how he tenderly bandaged the arrow wound in Morwen's shoulder...he seemed to be a very good older brother to the two girls, and a flash of anger crossed his eyes when they told him that yet again Denethor had refused to resume trade with Rivendell and Lorien.

"Sometimes I wonder how he can bear to do that to a friend," he muttered.

* * *

Really sorry this chap is so short! I haven't had much time for writing lately so yeah...


	25. Chapter 25

So, guys, I just felt like being nice and giving you another chappie. This was co written with Vic Johns so it might not be the same style that I regularly do, but my style and his are pretty similar, so just shoot me a PM if it is too strikingly different and we will no longer co write...well...we will co write other works, but from the beginning so there are no differences in the writing style halfway through the story.

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing and if I did, I would be brilliant, not alive and I'd be a guy. Unless Christopher owns it, that is.

* * *

I got promoted at work! And I've only been with my company for two months! Yay me!

* * *

THE SOUTHRON USED HERE IS AN ACTUAL LANGUAGE I SPEAK, TRANSLATIONS WILL BE AT THE BOTTOM. I have not found any reference to Southron as a language anywhere, so I just used an existing language.

* * *

_I will not be updating as often now, as with my promotion my workload has definitely increased. I will probably be able to update maybe only once a week or so._

* * *

Neither Morwen or Quethiel could rid themselves of the feeling that now that they had Boromir, everything was going to be all right. It had always been Boromir who had defended them from childhood bullies in Gondor, and Faramir who had tried to defend them to his father, though he and Boromir had both failed at this. Morwen held the little handkerchief with the silver-tinted soil and the beautiful slender leaves that Sam and Aragorn had given to her, and felt safe.

"The land is too fraught with dangers for the two of you to go all the way back to Gondor on your own," he said with a frown that day, while they rowed on the boat. "How did you even reach the forest in one piece?"

"We dressed as orcs," said Quethiel, displaying her orc helmet with its protruding beak. "We should have taken the orc garments off once we got into the forest, but we didn't get the chance. There are orcs here too...quite a way behind us, and not in a pack...but if we were glimpsed through the trees we wanted to be taken as two of them."

"Well, you cannot go back. Orcs are coming in ever greater numbers; they would force you to join them and surely one would notice your true identity."

* * *

When they approached the waterfall, the party set up camp on the banks of the river. Frodo wandered off somewhere alone and Boromir departed to fetch kindling, leaving the others behind. Randiriel had shrouded herself in black and put on her Southron veil, because her skin had been emitting a strong silvery glow. Legolas had shot her many strange looks, as if he were suspicious and worried at the same time. All that was visible now were her bright green eyes. She was now sitting against a tree, humming softly. The hobbits recognized the song that had lulled them all to sleep on their second-to-last night in Lothlorien, and came to huddle around her and hum with her. Randiriel's eyes were far away, however, not thinking of the song she sang or the hobbits beside her, nor of the husband who waited for her in Lorien. She thought of days gone by, days that were only starting to come back to her now. Herself as a tiny elfling, escorted everywhere by her older sister and brother. For the first time, Randiriel could remember Sairalinde's face...very like their father's, but dark of hair and eyes.

_What did I lose?_

At once, Aragorn came and sat across from her. "You seem preoccupied, Lady Randiriel."

"First, do not call me Lady young Aragorn," said Randiriel with a faint smile. "I have seen more years than you have, a hundred and twenty more, in fact, but I am no lady. And yes, I am...I am thinking about my old life."

"Ah, I see."

"She will not go, you know." said Randiriel quietly, leaning against a tree and closing her eyes so that once more, the fact that her tanned skin had lightened several shades was made obvious. "She will not obey her father."

"Who?"

"Arwen, of course. Her father will want her to sail off to the Undying Lands, but she will not obey him. She will stay here, and she will wait for you."

Aragorn's face seemed to tremble. "How do you know this?"

"I saw a vision of her...she was, in fact, riding to the Havens, when suddenly...a child danced across her path, a beautiful child, a spectre. He seemed to dart out of the woods, across her path, and straight into the wood on the other side. Then he ran up the steps of a palace that even I could see was not there, and he was lifted into the air by a man...and the man was you."

Something like hope seemed to flicker in Aragorn's eyes.

"But how do you know that the child's mother was Arwen?"

"About his throat," said Randiriel, opening her eyes, "was the Evenstar, the one she gave to you."

Aragorn was silent. "Thank you," he said, leaning forward to grasp her hand in thanks. "I hope that one day that future can truly come to be."

No sooner had he finished than the sound of a horn drifted from the woods.

"Boromir," gasped Aragorn. The others looked at each other uneasily. Then as one they plunged into the forest.

* * *

The problem was soon made obvious. There were orcs everywhere. Fighting their way through the mass to get to Boromir, Morwen's blade was a frenzy. She was impervious to the bloody scratches she received. Only one thought echoed in her mind..._reach Boromir before it is too late. _

When at last she stood at his side and was fighting by him, in the distance she saw an orc standing away from the general tumult, aiming at Boromir. The arrow was loosed; Morwen threw herself in front of him, guarding them both with her shield. She heard a slight noise as the arrow bounced off it. Yet one more came when they were fighting again; they both managed to dodge that one. At last, they turned to see that Merry and Pippin, along with Huidhenel, were being dragged away. Huidhenel, however, was not going to go down without a fight. A strange light came into her black eyes and she bit the orc that held her.

It fell to the ground dead.

The others looked at her fearfully; and then began to run in the opposite direction. However, another swept Huidhenel onto its shoulders and ran, more quickly and lightfooted than the rest, to join them; she was struggling around to try and bite it anywhere, when a mellow, though slightly rough voice, met her ears. "You have to go to protect them, Ashling. I know what you have done, and I am proud...but I must not raise suspicions, and you must do your duty. You have to save them from the fate that awaits them. Do you not recognize your caretaker's arms?"

Huidhenel nearly sagged with relief. "Sharku," she said in a whisper.

"Yes, my dear, it is me, in the flesh."

* * *

Quethiel knew, as soon as Sam and Frodo disappeared from sight, that something was wrong. At a thought that struck her mind, she ran back the way she had come, where they had left the boats and packs. When she reached the bank she saw Frodo in the middle of the water, and Sam struggling out to meet him. Quethiel grabbed her pack and (thanking Arda that it was waterproof) tied it to her back, and then jumped into the water after Sam, only to see that he was sinking and Frodo, horrorstruck, was staring at the place where he had gone down and was paddling frantically toward him.

Quethiel threw her pack toward him. "Catch it!" Frodo caught it, confused, and then Quethiel dived. She did not see Sam at first, and then when she did, she put her head above water for one quick breath, and then plunged deeper, praying it was not too late. She caught his hand, and nearly laughed for joy when his chubby fingers closed on her slender ones. She swam as hard as she could toward the light above them, and at once, they had broken the surface, and she and Sam were being pulled into the boat by Frodo.

"I made a promise, Mr Frodo, a promise!" said Sam, who seemed to be about to sob. "Don' t you leave him, Samwise Gamgee...and I don't mean to...I don't mean to!"

"Oh Sam." said Frodo, hugging Sam. Quethiel was quite surprised when they both hugged her, too, and she picked up an oar and started rowing.

_Goodbye, Morwen, _said Quethiel, looking back into the forest on the other side of the river. _I'm sorry I left like this...but you have the cure, and the others can escort you back to Gondor and to Uncle, because Frodo and Sam are going alone...I'll always love you, my sister, and thank you._

* * *

"Hurry! Sam, Frodo, and Quethiel will have reached the eastern shore!" said Legolas, running to push one of the boats into the water.

Then he looked at Aragorn and stood stock still.

"You mean not to follow them," he said.

"Frodo's fate is no longer in our hands." Aragorn turned and looked away where the orcs had been. "We will not abandon Merry, Pippin, and Huidhenel to torture and peril." He looked around at Legola, Randiriel, Gimli, Morwen, and Boromir. "Leave all that can be spared behind; we travel light...Let's hunt some orc!"

"Yaah!" agreed Gimli, running after him. Legolas grinned and followed. Randiriel was next, and at last Boromir and Morwen stood alone.

"What will you do?" asked Boromir, taking Morwen's hand.

"I don't know." Morwen sat down on the ground. "Quethiel is gone. All throughout my life, my first priority was keeping Quethiel safe. And this time I couldn't," she said, seeming shocked at the idea. "I feel that after I return to Gondor I will have nothing to live for."

"Do not say that. You have everything to live for," said Boromir, kneeling in front of her and taking both her hands, gazing earnestly into her tearing eyes. "You have Quethiel, your uncle and your mother, you have Faramir...you have me, too. Is that not enough?"

"Thank you, Boromir. For being there when I needed you. Even when I was lost in this godforsaken place you were there when I needed you, for me, and for Quethiel."

"I daresay that we will end up reaching Gondor eventually, and not in a long time either," said Boromir. "If we decide that we will not, you can simply leave, and I will go with you."

"You cannot leave them; they need you!" said Morwen in shock. "Don't you dare, Boromir!"

"I can leave them for you; you need me more than they do."

Morwen flung her arms around his neck, and suddenly a panting Gimli appeared. "What the blazes is _taking _you two so long?" he asked grumpily. Then he saw them hugging and rolled his eyes. "Oh, for the love of Durin, now is not the time for tender, romantic moments! Really! We've got two hobbits and an elleth to save and we _have _no time!"

"It wasn't a tender romantic moment!" said Morwen in exasperation. "I'm simply glad that my big brother is always there for me when I need him, that is all."

"Well, if that's all and you are _quite finished, _come on then!" Gimli ran back into the woods and Boromir and Morwen followed, Boromir laughing when Morwen yelled, "Orcs, fear us! We shall make you shake in your shoes!"

* * *

So, there you have it, a nice relatively long chappie to make up for the awfully short ones. Thanks for reading, and please I need some more feedback as to who should die and who should live! I mean really, it's so hard to decide!


	26. Chapter 26

So, guys, I just felt like being nice and giving you another chappie. This was co written with Vic Johns so it might not be the same style that I regularly do, but my style and his are pretty similar, so just shoot me a PM if it is too strikingly different and we will no longer co write...well...we will co write other works, but from the beginning so there are no differences in the writing style halfway through the story.

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing and if I did, I would be brilliant, not alive and I'd be a guy. Unless Christopher owns it, that is.

* * *

I got promoted at work! And I've only been with my company for two months! Yay me!

* * *

THE SOUTHRON USED HERE IS AN ACTUAL LANGUAGE I SPEAK, TRANSLATIONS WILL BE AT THE BOTTOM. I have not found any reference to Southron as a language anywhere, so I just used an existing language.

* * *

_I will not be updating as often now, as with my promotion my workload has definitely increased. I will probably be able to update maybe only once a week or so._

* * *

They had, to be frank, been running for a long time.

Morwen's breath was catching in her chest; at last she sank down on the ground, wheezing. At the ominous sound that came from her chest, the others stopped running. Randiriel and Legolas had to be called back from where they were (they were far ahead of the others) and Boromir, who had remained near her, picked her up effortlessly and began to run.

"Will you be all right?" he asked.

Morwen bit her lip. She had a lung condition that could generally be allayed only by inhaling steam; needless to say, they hadn't enough water to spare for that. It often played up after a long day of walking or running; needless to say, this had rendered her nearly incapable of breathing. She didn't know what could happen if she didn't get the steam she needed, with several herb extracts as well as water. But from the worry she always saw in her mother's eye when she went into one of her wheezing fits, she knew it had to be serious.

"I need steam," she whispered into his ears. She exhibited her nails; they were a dull blue. "If I don't get it, then..."

"Then what?" asked Boromir, stopping in his tracks, fear in his voice.

"You don't need steam," said Randiriel, dropping to her knees and rummaging in her pack. "A drop of mallorn oil generally does for that, but...you had none, did you?"

She pulled out a slender crystal phial, filled to the brim with a gleaming oil that was like pure gold. She came to Morwen's side and into her mouth, she placed a single drop of the oil. Randiriel swallowed, and within a few moments, her breathing began to return to normal and she gave Randiriel a grateful look.

"Thank you, Randiriel," she said with a smile.

"What would have happened if..." Boromir looked at Morwen searchingly.

"She would have died," Randiriel said flatly. "At this stage, it would have taken five minutes, perhaps ten."

"You have dealt with it before?" asked Morwen.

"I spent eighty years of my life in a desert with the finest sands there were. We often had lung trouble, but we did trade with Lorien at one point, and our leaders were intelligent enough to buy massive quantities of mallorn leaves."

"What about Combsbane? Does anyone every get it in Harad?"

"No. Not while I was there. And we have enough mallorn leaves to allay even an epidemic, at least until we can get soil from Lorien."

"Why do you not have stores of the soil, though?"

"We have no need of it, as no one was ever ill with anything that required it."

* * *

Huidhenel was sick and tired of Uruk-Hai.

If it had not been for Sharku (who went by the name of Ugluk, and was now, apparently serving under Saruman) she would have very likely called the Nazgul to take her to the tower of the Great Eye of her father so that she could promptly hurl herself off it and dash herself to pieces on the rocks below. On the first night, they had tied her, Merry, and Pippin up with ropes (though Sharku, who had tied them, had made sure to tie them so they could escape when the opportunity presented itself.

She had watched, sickened, as orcs and Uruks alike tormented the two little hobbits. When evening began to fall and the grasslands grew chilly, they crawled up against her, but she told them softly that her blood no longer ran with fire, only with, well, blood.

And then there was the chill.

Huidhenel had always wondered what it was like to feel cold. She had only ever felt extreme heat (when her skin was burnt by her blood) or nothing at all; she always felt the air neither warm nor cold. The only concept of temperature that she had was one of pain.

It was a novel sensation; a tremble that seemed to reach for her very bones and hold them in a merciless grip. She noticed that the hobbits were not too badly affected, and she almost laughed at what Legolas would think; an elf like her, quaking because of an evening chill.

"We ain't had nothing but maggoty bread for three stinking days!" Huidhenel jerked herself out of her thoughts and looked over to where orcs and Uruk-Hai were arguing, and she smiled at the way that her Sharku was handling the situation.

"Yeah, why can't we have some meat?" A particularly revolting-looking orc gestured to her, Merry, and Pippin with his head. "What about them? They're fresh!"

"They are not for eating." Sharku's menacing voice seemed to penetrate into Huidhenel. It was so strange, hearing him like that after hearing him speaking only gentle words of comfort, and, on occasion, elvish lullabies which Huidhenel had not then understood.

"What about their legs? They don't need them...oh, they look tasty..." Huidhenel wrapped her arms around her stomach in a vain attempt to keep from being sick.

It didn't work.

"They are meant to be brought alive and UNspoiled," said Sharku calmly, after looking sympathetically at Huidhenel.

"Oh, just a mouthful...a bit off the flank..."

Sharku lost his patience. Picking up his scimitar, he slasked the orc's head from its shoulders. Then he stared at the body with his head on one side.

"Looks like meat's back on the menu, boys!"

With howls of jubilation, the others tore into the body. Sharku looked faintly sick, though being an Uruk himself, he could stomach the stuff if he had to. However, he refrained from throwing up.

Huidhenel, Merry, and Pippin didn't.


	27. Chapter 27

So, guys, I just felt like being nice and giving you another chappie. This was co written with Vic Johns so it might not be the same style that I regularly do, but my style and his are pretty similar, so just shoot me a PM if it is too strikingly different and we will no longer co write...well...we will co write other works, but from the beginning so there are no differences in the writing style halfway through the story.

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing and if I did, I would be brilliant, not alive and I'd be a guy. Unless Christopher owns it, that is.

* * *

I got promoted at work! And I've only been with my company for two months! Yay me!

* * *

THE SOUTHRON USED HERE IS AN ACTUAL LANGUAGE I SPEAK, TRANSLATIONS WILL BE AT THE BOTTOM. I have not found any reference to Southron as a language anywhere, so I just used an existing language.

* * *

_I will not be updating as often now, as with my promotion my workload has definitely increased. I will probably be able to update maybe only once a week or so._

* * *

Quethiel was dizzy.

And the reason was simple.

"We're going in circles," said Frodo in despair. "We've been here before."

"Ugh, and there's a nasty fog," said Sam. "Can you smell it?"

"Yes," said Frodo, coming to stand beside Sam. "I can smell it."

A creeping sensation seemed to be going up Quethiel's spine. She hurried forward, closer to the two hobbits. She was about to speak, when Frodo opened his mouth and said the words she had been going to say.

"We're not alone."

That night, when they camped, all three of them kept their eyes wide open and stayed perfectly still. Quethiel knew very well who...or what, perhaps...they were trying to lure in towards them. She lay staring at the back of Sam's shoulder in a kind of stupor, until a sharp jab in the ribs from Frodo made her aware of what was coming their way. Quethiel could barely hear a thin, hissing voice, which seemed to be coming slowly down the cliff above them, and she knew that Gollum was drawing nearer.

"The thieves! The filthy little thieves! They stole it from us, and we wants it, yes, we does..."

The voice was right on top of them. Quethiel slowly moved her hand under her cloak until she found the hilt of her sword, and then sprange up, along with the other two hobbits, pulling Gollum down. He soon recovered from the shock however, and at last he put his hands around Sam's neck, tightening them slowly as he bit his shoulders. At once, Frodo seized Gollum's thin, lank hair and drew it back, pressing the silver blade of his dagger to his throat.

"Release him, or I'll cut your throat."

* * *

"Chaahe tum kuchh na kaho maine sun liya  
Ki saathi pyaar ka mujhe chun liya  
Chun liya  
Maine Sun liya

Pehla nasha  
Pehla khumaar  
Naya pyaar hai naya intezaar  
Kar loon main kya apna haal  
Aye dil-e-bekaraar  
Mere dil-e-bekaraar  
Tu hi bata

Pehla nasha  
Pehla khumaar

Udta hi firoon in hawaon mein kahin  
Ya main jhool jaoon in ghataon mein kahin  
Udta hi firoon in hawaon mein kahin  
Ya main jhool jaoon in ghataon mein kahin  
Ek kar doon aasmaan zameen  
Kaho yaaron kya karoon kya nahin

Pehla nasha  
Pehla khumaar  
Naya pyaar hai naya intezaar  
Kar loon main kya apna haal  
Aye dil-e-bekaraar  
Mere dil-e-bekaraar  
Tu hi bata

Pehla nasha  
Pehla khumaar

Usne baat ki kuchh aise dhang se  
Sapne de gaya vo hazaaron range ke  
Usne baat ki kuchh aise dhang se  
Sapne de gaya vo hazaaron range ke  
Reh jaoon jaise main haar ke  
Aur choome vo mujhe pyaar se

Pehla nasha  
Pehla khumaar  
Naya pyaar hai naya intezaar  
Kar loon main kya apna haal  
Aye dil-e-bekaraar  
Mere dil-e-bekaraar..."

Randiriel was singing, and Morwen found herself entranced by the song. It was a beautiiful song, and from all that Morwen had heard of the Haradrim, she wondered how a people said to be so cruel could write songs of such yearning, joy, and tenderness. Randiriel always sand her Haradic lullaby before they slept; Morwen had asked her why.

"Before I became a general, I looked after a child for some years. The mother of the babe had died at her birth." Randiriel's eyes had darkened. "And one day a man who'd had a gripe with her father...he came upon us, in her father's house. He found me with the child in my arms, and he took her from me and..." Her voice had trailed off. "I managed to save my Sunnlia...I named my horse after her...but that was the first day I killed, and from then on, Sunnlia became a nervous, fearful child. The only way she could sleep was if I sang that lullaby for her, and stayed in the same bed as she did throughout the night. When she reached womanhood and was wedded, I went to train in the army. But if I do not sing that lullaby, my heart, like hers, would not be at rest while I slept."

"You have a beautiful voice, Lady Randiriel," said Gimli, quite unexpectedly.

She smiled at him. "Thank you."

As they continued to walk, they had to pause every three or four hours so that Morwen could have a drop of mallorn oil to ward off the coughing attacks she would have otherwise.

She felt slightly guilty for holding them up.

Aragorn paused to listen at the ground. "Their pace has quickened," he said.

"There seems to be something else nearby them. Horses, many of them. Their steps resound through the soil, and I can hear them in the air," said Legolas.

"As can I," Randiriel agreed.

And they began to run.

Again.


	28. Chapter 28

So, guys, I just felt like being nice and giving you another chappie. I am infinitely sorry about this late update! No really! I am.

This was co written with Vic Johns so it might not be the same style that I regularly do, but my style and his are pretty similar, so just shoot me a PM if it is too strikingly different and we will no longer co write...well...we will co write other works, but from the beginning so there are no differences in the writing style halfway through the story.

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing and if I did, I would be brilliant, not alive and I'd be a guy. Unless Christopher owns it, that is.

* * *

I got promoted at work! And I've only been with my company for two months! Yay me!

* * *

THE SOUTHRON USED HERE IS AN ACTUAL LANGUAGE I SPEAK, TRANSLATIONS WILL BE AT THE BOTTOM. I have not found any reference to Southron as a language anywhere, so I just used an existing language.

* * *

_I will not be updating as often now, as with my promotion my workload has definitely increased. I will probably be able to update maybe only once a week or so._

* * *

"That is strange," said Aragorn, who was once more lying flat on the ground with his ear pressed to it. "I can no longer hear the steps of the Uruk-hai."

"Perhaps they moved off quickly during the night?" asked Morwen. Aragorn shook his head.

"No, they would have stopped to rest. Uruks are not like normal orcs, Morwen...they can travel equally well in the sunlight and at night, and we were keeping up with their pace."

"Well, can you feel anything at all?" asked Randiriel, who was also lying on the ground and listening. "I can hear the horsemen still, but they are steadily going farther North."

"Yes, I too can hear them."

They walked and ran quite steadily that day; quite surprisingly, Randiriel grew tired very easily and had to take her own mallorn oil for strength. She had apologized to Morwen many times for this, but Morwen had waved her off, telling her that Randiriel had more right to the oil than she had.

At about noon, the sound of the horses became clear in the air. This confused all of them, as they were sure that they could not have caught up so quickly with the band that they had been tracking. However, Randiriel and Aragorn listened and concluded that they were the same group, as it seemed to be the same size, and still going in the same direction.

"I hope they _are_," said Boromir. "We might run into a crowd of the Haradrim, for all we can tell."

Randiriel shot Boromir a look. "Yes, it would be very bad for you, if I were not there."

"It would be very bad for us no matter what; what are you talking about?" asked Boromir perplexedly.

Randiriel withdrew a horn from her pack and held it up.

"This is one of the few things I have from Harad," she said. "When I was about a hundred and twenty, I killed a _mumak _and this horn I made for myself from its skull." She said this with an air of regret, which the hobbits did not seem to understand.

"But why did you kill the mumak?" asked Legolas in confusion. "The Haradrim ride on them in palanquins, do they not? It would be like a man or Rohan killing a horse."

"This one had been injured very badly; it was only a calf," said Randiriel sadly. "Not even as high as my shoulder, a very young one which one of the male _mumakil _decided to attack. It happens, sometimes, and that is why we keep the calves away from the bulls. But this one had been out for training, and the youngest ones had been grazing with their mothers..."

"What on?" asked Pippin. "I thought Harad was in a desert; what could they eat?"

"We did have some plants, Pippin," said Randiriel, lost in her thoughts. "Though they were rather spiny...I wondered sometimes how the _mumakil _managed to eat them...and then the calf was attacked. It was hurt so badly...it would have died slowly and in terrible pain. I tried, at first to heal it with what elvish supplies we had at that point. But it soon became clear to me that I was not going to succeed, and despite what I had done, it would die. So I killed it, quickly and painlessly."

"But what does that have to do with the rest of the Haradrim?" asked Boromir.

"My horn was a famous horn. It was my sign, my seal of leadership, if you will. The horn was given the significance of a scepter in some way. It was to be passed to my successor if I was killed or decided to leave, although," she smiled, "my _krigsherre _would not have been very happy if I had indeed decided to leave the army. The young man who placed me upon my horse all those years ago and told it to go home should have kept my horn; he was my chosen second in command, but he felt it was wrong to take it from me while I was yet alive. And they do not know what happened to me or to the horn...but if they attacked us, I would give them my horn and they would go in peace."

"Why would you give it to them? Would not displaying it and declaring your identity be enough?"

"I would do that, as well, but the Mumak Horn belongs with the Haradrim people," said Randiriel, stowing the Horn back into her pack.

"What was your name?" asked Huidhenel.

"My what?"

"Your name. I am sure you did not go by the elvish Vande-Vanya when you were in Harad."

"My name was Anjana...it means powerful and complete...but though I thought it suited me then...it did not, and I was not complete until I met Haldir."

* * *

Just a little peek into Randiriel's past, hope you liked it!


	29. Chapter 29

So, guys, I just felt like being nice and giving you another chappie. I am infinitely sorry about this late update! No really! I am.

This was co written with Vic Johns so it might not be the same style that I regularly do, but my style and his are pretty similar, so just shoot me a PM if it is too strikingly different and we will no longer co write...well...we will co write other works, but from the beginning so there are no differences in the writing style halfway through the story.

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing and if I did, I would be brilliant, not alive and I'd be a guy. Unless Christopher owns it, that is.

* * *

I got promoted at work! And I've only been with my company for two months! Yay me!

* * *

THE SOUTHRON USED HERE IS AN ACTUAL LANGUAGE I SPEAK, TRANSLATIONS WILL BE AT THE BOTTOM. I have not found any reference to Southron as a language anywhere, so I just used an existing language.

* * *

_I will not be updating as often now, as with my promotion my workload has definitely increased. I will probably be able to update maybe only once a week or so._

* * *

Ok, so, sorry...this isn't an update, but I am NOT NOT NOT NOT abandoning this story! its my baby :) Work's been getting tough and me and my husband are trying to save up to look for a house our own. We're living in an apartment currently, and it's got 4 rooms and is big enough, but we decided to get a house and we'd rather not have a massive loan. :P Forgive me on this! I've been dragging myself to work at 6:30 AM, programming till 9PM (me and Vic both are in the same company) and getting overtime, so...well...such is the life of a desperate engineer, he he he he.

So...few things to clarify

The songs I've used (the Haradrim ones) are real ones. Randiriel's lullaby is a very famous movie soundtrack (cookies if you guess which movie) and her song "Pehla Nasha," is a famous movie song, translation here;

_Chaahe Tum Kuch Na Kaho, Maine Sunn Liya_  
Though you didn't say anything, I heard you

_Ke Saathi Pyaar Ka, Mujhe Chunn Liya_  
That you chose me as your chosen one

_Chun Liya, Maine Sunn Liya_  
You chose me, and I heard it

_Pehla Nasha, Pehla Khumaar_  
The first elation, first hangover

_Naya Pyaar Hai, Naya Intezaar_  
Love is new to me, so is this longing

_Karloon Main Kya Apna Haal_  
What will I do to myself

_Ae Dil-E-Beqaraar_  
Oh restless heart

_Mere Dil-E-Beqaraar, Tu Hi Bata_  
My restless heart, you may tell me

_Udtaa Hi Phiroon Inn Hawaon Mein Kahin_  
Shall I roam around along this wind

_Ya Main Jhool Jaon Inn Ghataon Mein Kahin_  
Or shall I swing on these clouds

_Ek Kardoon Aasmaan Aur Zameen_  
May I unite the sky and earth

Kaho Yaaron Kya Karoon, Kya Nahin  
Tell me friends, what I should do and what not

Usne Baat Ki Kuch Aise Dhang Se  
He spoke to me such a way that

Sapne De Gaya Woh Hazaaron Rang Ke  
He gave me dreams in a thousand colours

Reh Jaun Jaise Main Haarke  
I will remain surrendered like this

Aur Choome Woh Mujhe Pyaar Se  
And he will kiss me with Love

Randiriel _is _going to die in the battle of Helm's Deep, but the Valar (Mandos, to be more specific) decide that ME needs her, so they send her back, except into Harad. As she will be required to fight, they send the baby back along with her so she won't have to go through childbirth before the war...but all that's a long way in the future! Look forward to...

1. Gollum rants

2. Faramir/Quethiel fluff

3. Legolas/Huidhenel fluff

4. Morwen/Boromir teasing, onesided love

5. Legolas/Haldir comfort after Randiriel 'dies'

6. A MASSIVE TWIST IN THE 2ND TO LAST CHAPTER I KNOW YOU GUYS ARE ALL GONNA HATE ME FOR!


	30. Chapter 30

So, guys, I just felt like being nice and giving you another chappie. I am infinitely sorry about this late update! No really! I am.

This was co written with Vic Johns so it might not be the same style that I regularly do, but my style and his are pretty similar, so just shoot me a PM if it is too strikingly different and we will no longer co write...well...we will co write other works, but from the beginning so there are no differences in the writing style halfway through the story.

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing and if I did, I would be brilliant, not alive and I'd be a guy. Unless Christopher owns it, that is.

* * *

I got promoted at work! And I've only been with my company for two months! Yay me!

* * *

THE SOUTHRON USED HERE IS AN ACTUAL LANGUAGE I SPEAK, TRANSLATIONS WILL BE AT THE BOTTOM. I have not found any reference to Southron as a language anywhere, so I just used an existing language.

* * *

_I will not be updating as often now, as with my promotion my workload has definitely increased. I will probably be able to update maybe only once a week or so._

* * *

Again, not update, but random poem :P. Assuming Haldir dies...which he doesn't, this is a song from Randiriel to her son. But this is not my song, it's from the movie. And NEITHER HALDIR NOR RANDIRIEL DIES. Though by the end of the story you guys will wish it was one of them who died instead and hate me. Sigh.

A chéneg a ionneg  
Little boy, little one

Danna si fuin  
Night is falling.

Tolo na rengy nin  
Come into my arms,

Beriathon  
Let me hold you safe

A núriel annant  
But still you run

Trin aduial  
Through the twilight,

Ne dúath roeg dagech  
Lost in your play

Ne theilien  
Slaying demons in the shadows.

A chéneg A ionneg  
Little boy, little one,

Pant galu pant glas  
Full of grace full of joy,

A naenatha hún nín  
Oh, my heart will break,

Ne chinn lín cenim:  
For I see in your eyes:

Le iôn adar lín  
You are your father's son,

û iôn naneth lín  
Not your mother's child.


	31. Chapter 31

So, guys, I just felt like being nice and giving you another chappie. I am infinitely sorry about this late update! No really! I am.

This was co written with Vic Johns so it might not be the same style that I regularly do, but my style and his are pretty similar, so just shoot me a PM if it is too strikingly different and we will no longer co write...well...we will co write other works, but from the beginning so there are no differences in the writing style halfway through the story.

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing and if I did, I would be brilliant, not alive and I'd be a guy. Unless Christopher owns it, that is.

* * *

There have been 4838 Views...oh god, I'm squee-ing here. Can we make it to 75 reviews by Sunday? If we can, I'll post another chapter tomorrow, I promise! 75 reviews by Sunday and you get another chapter then!

* * *

I got promoted at work! And I've only been with my company for two months! Yay me!

* * *

THE SOUTHRON USED HERE IS AN ACTUAL LANGUAGE I SPEAK, TRANSLATIONS WILL BE AT THE BOTTOM. I have not found any reference to Southron as a language anywhere, so I just used an existing language.

* * *

_I will not be updating as often now, as with my promotion my workload has definitely increased. I will probably be able to update maybe only once a week or so._

* * *

Huidhenel lay flat on her back, gazing up at the sky. It was pitch dark; the orcs were asleep. The three guards who were meant to be keeping watch had nodded off too. She had not known that they did sleep, despite the fact that she had been raised by two of them.

"Ashling?" came a slightly guttural voice from beside her.

Huidhenel rolled over onto her side and saw Sharku sitting up against a rock, sharpening his blade with a lump of rock. She smiled at the sight of him; seeing him there brought back memories of happier days. Sharku had been the stay of her life ever since she had been created; it was Sharku who had taught her how to read Westron, who had sung soft elven lullabies to her when she could not sleep, who had told her stories of his homeland, a far-off realm called Rivendell, who had wept with her when Suiauthon's fea could cling no longer to his ruined and broken body.

"Yes, Sharku?"

"There will be a raid by the warriors of Rohan tomorrow night," he said. "I have felt their hoofbeats through the earth; they will be upon us in a day. Then, you, Merry, and Pippin must make your escape. Go into the forest, and make your way through it. There, you will find allies, who will help you."

"Who are they?" asked Huidhenel.

"You will see, my _winicë_," said Sharku with a fond smile, looking at Huidhenel, who sighed.

"Why do you still call me your baby?" she asked. "I'm anything but a baby, you know."

Sharku laughed softly. "True, Ashling, you are no longer a baby. You have grown into a strong, wise, and kind woman. I saw it the day you looked at Suiauthon with your eyes full of hope and tenderness, and that was the day I knew you had grown up." There was a sad undertone in his voice. "But sometimes I still see the tiny child who once threw all her books into Orodruin when she did not want to study."

Huidhenel blushed, a pale tint of rose suffusing her pale cheeks. "You never let me forget that day. And you made me copy out every single book while you dictated to me."

"You did deserve that."

Huidhenel chuckled. "I know. There is one thing, though...did you always think of me as Ashling in your mind? Or did you have a different name for me at first?"

"I called you Lárasarnë in my head, 'flat stone,' because you liked to play on the plinth atop the fortress. But Ashling suited you so much more, and Huidhenel does, as well." Then his voice grew much more serious. "I will not be coming with you tomorrow."

She blanched. "Why?"

"I have to keep my cover; and I may...I may be killed in combat, my Ashling."

"No, you can't," she murmured, burying her face in his shoulder, huddling into a tight ball while he patted her back soothingly. "Not you, never."

"It is the way of life, my darling one," he said, his voice reverberating in his chest. "Things are born, they live, and at last, they must pass from the paths of this world when it is their time to do so."

"I will be alone." The word whispered itself from Huidhenel's lips. She closed her eyes, ignoring the burning behind them; she could not cry, after all.

"No, you will not be alone," said Sharku, wrapping his arms about her slender frame and pulling her close. "Where is the fire that ran within you, my dear? Who is it that you loved so much as to change your very identity?"

"Legolas," she said softly.

Sharku's eyes widened, and pain filled them. "You do know he is Suiauthon's brother?"

"Yes," she murmured. "But that could change nothing of what I feel for him."

"You have grown, Ashling," he said. "You do not need me, not any more."

She turned beseeching eyes to him. "I will always need you, until my dying day, Sharku! Do not say such things, please."

"Only remember," he said, his words seeming to hang in the air, "that I love you, and that I always will, and nothing can change that. There will be a day when all this is over. When this land is calmed and the tides of war have ceased. If I am not here then, I will remain here."

"What do you mean?"

"Souls can choose whether or not to go on, Huidhenel," said Sharku. "I will never leave you. If you are here when I die, I will stay here, and guard you always."

Huidhenel did not answer.

"Ashling?"

Just as she had done as a child, she had dropped off to sleep at his last promise, her soul at rest. Sharku smiled slightly and picked her up, laying her beside the two snoring hobbits. She frowned in her sleep and clutched at his mail as he put her down. "Sleep well...my winice..." He sighed and ran his hand through matted hair. "Whatever future is coming, you will always be my child, my Ashling, and I know you will face it with ever fiber of strength you have in you." He kissed her brow. "_Amin mela ile, _my baby."

* * *

Quethiel carefully trod in patches of damp grass, careful not to fall into the bog in either side of her. She was at the rear of the party; Gollum had gone on ahead to show them the path, Frodo was following close behind him, and Sam was stumping along wearily behind Frodo. She was much less tired than any of them, though she didn't know why.

"There are faces!" came a shout ahead from Frodo. "Dead faces in the water!"

"Yes, Elves...and Men...and Orcses...all dead, all rotting," came Gollum's sibilant hiss from ahead. "There was a battle, long ago, Smeagol heard tell of it when he was young."

Quethiel leaned over carefully and looked into the water. The stark white faces she saw there seemed to have been preserved, and she looked down upon the wise old face of a man with an ornate helmet. His eyes were raised in a plea, his hand over his breast. He seemed to be lying on rock. His beard was a pale golden, and there was a star set upon his helm, right above his eyes.

Quethiel reeled back, hand at her heart. There was only one man this could be; the starred helmet that had been lost when...

"King Elendil died and Isildur took the ring," she murmured.

She was looking upon the dead face of King Elendil, who died more than two thousand years ago.

Then she was called away from her thoughts by a loud splash, and Sam's cry.

Frodo had fallen in.

* * *

"What business do two elves, two men, a woman, and a dwarf have in the riddermark! Speak quickly!"

"We seek a band of Uruk-Hai," said Aragorn quickly before Gimli could speak. "They've taken three of our friends captive."

"We slaughtered them in the night," said Eomer, waving his hand away west to a smoking black pile.

"Did you see two hobbits?" cried Gimli. "Did you see two hobbits with them?"

"They would be small, only children to your eyes," said Aragorn.

"We left none alive," said Eomer.

"Dead?" whispered Gimli.

"I am sorry," said Eomer. He called for four horses to be brought forth. "May they bring you better fortune than befell their masters."

"Wait!" cried Legolas, as the group made to ride away. "There was an elleth! Dark of hair and eyes, tall and slender, without fingernails, and she was clad in a grey cloak and boots."

"I saw an elleth," said one of the other riders. Legolas turned to him eagerly.

"Where did she go? Is she with you?" His eyes scanned the horses for any sign of Huidhenel.

"She was carried, unconscious, into the trees, by a strange-looking Uruk, who moved with more grace than the rest, and was a great deal taller. The captain of the band we believe. We sent arrows after him, though I doubt any of them found their mark."

As the Rohirrim rode away, Aragorn came to Legolas's side. He was fallen on his knees, staring at the ground.

"She is gone," whispered Legolas, looking at the black pile. "Merry and Pippin are gone...and Huidhenel is dead."


	32. Chapter 32

So, guys, I just felt like being nice and giving you another chappie. I am infinitely sorry about this late update! No really! I am.

This was co written with Vic Johns so it might not be the same style that I regularly do, but my style and his are pretty similar, so just shoot me a PM if it is too strikingly different and we will no longer co write...well...we will co write other works, but from the beginning so there are no differences in the writing style halfway through the story.

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing and if I did, I would be brilliant, not alive and I'd be a guy. Unless Christopher owns it, that is.

* * *

There have been 4838 Views...oh god, I'm squee-ing here. Can we make it to 75 reviews by Sunday? If we can, I'll post another chapter tomorrow, I promise! 75 reviews by Sunday and you get another chapter then!

* * *

You guys were mean, I only got 74! T-T

* * *

I got promoted at work! And I've only been with my company for two months! Yay me!

* * *

THE SOUTHRON USED HERE IS AN ACTUAL LANGUAGE I SPEAK, TRANSLATIONS WILL BE AT THE BOTTOM. I have not found any reference to Southron as a language anywhere, so I just used an existing language.

* * *

_I will not be updating as often now, as with my promotion my workload has definitely increased. I will probably be able to update maybe only once a week or so._

* * *

And yey! Haldir is back! We're in Lothlorien now.

* * *

Haldir was bathing in his talan. Usually, he would go down to the river with the other ellons in the guard, but he had decided not to. After Randiriel had gone off with the Fellowship, he had felt a gaping hole within him; he worried every waking moment for her safety, and his dreams were filled with her screams. He had ordered a bath brought to his room, as he wished to merely sit, not be subjected to his brothers' constant cajoling of him to join in with the others.

Randiriel.

By Lord Eru! How stubborn she was! It was as if no one could dissuade her from the path she had chosen to take. With a pang he remembered her balled fists, flaming cheeks, and shrill voice as she shouted at him, as he tried to keep her from going.

There had also been the fact that there had been something different about her, in the week before she had left. Her eyesight and hearing, which had dulled when she had surrendered her immortality, had returned as strong, if not stronger, than they had been. Her thin mouth had become slightly fuller, and he had noticed that the scars she had gained during her years in Harad were fading.

It was as if she were becoming a true elf. And not to mention the aura that all elves possessed and could see. Randiriel's had been the dimmest he had ever seen, less bright even than an elf on the verge of death; that was an aura he knew only too well, having sped many parting souls over his many years as a soldier.

And then there was the fact that her soul seemed to be stronger. Haldir did not know quite how to express that, but a fea could be felt, in degrees, just as an aura was seen. And Haldir had noticed more fea from Randiriel than he had done...

At once, something leaped into his mind. He, accordingly, jumped out of his bathtub, hastily dried himself, and dressed, as the last detail that he had forgotten came back to him, one he had dismissed as the trick of the light; and that, he now knew, would account for Randiriel's general improvement in health. This was the glow that had seemed to linger about the region of her stomach. The signs had all been there, every last one of them. And he had missed them all, taken her at her word when he ought to have known that as she was not a true elleth, she would not have known as, for example, Rumil's wife would have known. He counted down the days since their marriage; it had been a little over three weeks and some days since their departure.

Haldir drew on his cloak and stalked down to the Lady Galadriel's chamber.

He had raised his hand to pound on the door when he saw the Lady walking toward him. When she came near, he said without preamble, "You knew."

Galadriel turned her startling blue eyes toward him. "Knew what, Haldir?"

"You knew she was with child!" His voice rose, accusingly. "She would not have stayed for herself, not if I implored her on bended knee...she felt it was her duty, but you should have never let her go...you should have told her, then she would have stayed!"

Galadriel's composure was unruffled. "Yes, Haldir, I did indeed know that Randiriel was carrying a child."

"Then how..." His indignation had rendered him temporarily speechless. "How...there has not been an elfling since the birth of Randiriel herself! How could you risk her life, and the child's with hers? I remember when we attended her Naming Day, she was the first elfling in three hundred years!"

Galadriel waited for Haldir to finish his rant Then, at last, she nodded. "Randiriel has a part to play in the war to come, greater than you and I could ever hope to imagine. This is a war she must fight in, and she must not lose."

"You sent an elleth and a child to war!" Haldir found his tongue again. "How-"

"Marchwarden," said Galadriel sternly after a while. "Randiriel has fought longer and harder ward than you have. She has suffered torture, wounds-"

"That is precisely why I want her home! Here! Safe, with me!"

"HALDIR!" said Galadriel. "Do not question my judgment. I have seen more than you know; do you think that the eyes of my mirror are blind, Marchwarden? We are all but pawns-"

"And Randiriel yours, I presume," spat Haldir. "You sent my wife and my child into a war that was not theirs to fight."

"It is our war, mine, yours-"

"I do not see you donning a mail shirt and going off to Mordor! Oh, Illuvatar! Mordor; her health will decline so badly there if they even make it to Mordor in one piece!"

"Peace, child," she sighed. "She will live, and your son."

"Son?"

"Come here."

She led him to her mirror. Haldir looked into it, and saw Randiriel atop a _mumakil. _Though he knew she had done it in the past, the sight was still fearful. Then she was bidding farewell to a young maiden, dark-skinned, dark-eyed, and beautiful, wearing a deep brown veil thrown back over her head, who held a tiny baby. The child had her hair and his eyes, and Haldir gasped.

Randiriel was dressed in armor and in one hand she held a bow, and then she stooped and lifted the baby into her arms, kissing it fiercely. The baby cried out and waved small arms in protest. A sob seemed to break from Randiriel's throat, for she cried over the baby for a few moments. Then she wiped her tears. The infant batted at her cheeks, a concerned look on its face, Then Randiriel gave a watery chuckle, before kissing the baby gently one last time, straining it to her heart, and then put the child back in the young girl's arms.

The baby seemed to know that she was leaving it, for as she walked away, out of the room, it began to howl, screaming and wailing tears of despair, tears that Haldir had not even known that a baby could cry. The poor thing sobbed until its strength was entirely spent, and at last it crumpled in an exhausted, quaking heap in the girl's lap, while she rocked it soothingly, trying to quiet it. Haldir was sure that if that child had been able to, it would have cried for hours for Randiriel, but it was far too tired to be able to. He could see it was whimpering softly, tears pouring out from wide blue eyes, and at the sight of the son he might never see, Haldir felt as if something had pierced his heart.

The image once again faded, to be replaced with an image of blinding white, which solidified to a picture of Randiriel, lying, clearly unconscious, on soft green grass. It was clear that she was with child, for her right hand lay on her belly, which was slightly rounded. The place where she was did not seem to have anything but grass on the place where she lay. As Haldir watched, two strange-looking men seemed to step down from the sky and then promptly began arguing, and they were soon joined by a woman. At once, Randiriel awoke, and the mirror returned to a surface of clear water.

_There is more to come than you can possibly imagine, young one, _came the voice of Galadriel himself, _Do not think to play with Chance, or defy Fate. When it comes, there will be no stopping it, and at the cost of however many lives it takes. _That thought was clearly unfinished, but Haldir completed it in his own mind, for the answer, to him, was glaringly obvious.

_Even Randiriel's._

* * *

So...review? tell me whatcha think? I quoted a bit from Denethor, he he he . I still think that line was freaking fabulous.


	33. Chapter 33

So, guys, I just felt like being nice and giving you another chappie. I am infinitely sorry about this late update! No really! I am.

This was co written with Vic Johns so it might not be the same style that I regularly do, but my style and his are pretty similar, so just shoot me a PM if it is too strikingly different and we will no longer co write...well...we will co write other works, but from the beginning so there are no differences in the writing style halfway through the story.

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing and if I did, I would be brilliant, not alive and I'd be a guy. Unless Christopher owns it, that is.

* * *

There have been 6000 Views...oh god, I'm squee-ing here.

* * *

Ah! DO YOU KNOW WHAT? ASHLING IS ACTUALLY A NAME! I was so surprised when i found out, but yes, Ashling is a name and it means 'dreams.'

* * *

I got promoted at work! And I've only been with my company for two months! Yay me!

* * *

THE SOUTHRON USED HERE IS AN ACTUAL LANGUAGE I SPEAK, TRANSLATIONS WILL BE AT THE BOTTOM. I have not found any reference to Southron as a language anywhere, so I just used an existing language.

* * *

_I will not be updating as often now, as with my promotion my workload has definitely increased. I will probably be able to update maybe only once a week or so._

* * *

Randiriel was lying on her sleeping roll, gazing up at the bottom of the trees. Legolas was keeping watch near the horses, just out of sight. She turned over onto her side when she heard someone whisper her name.

"Randiriel?"

She opened her eyes and looked at Morwen, who was sitting up against a rock.

"Yes, Morwen?"

"Do you think Huidhenel, Merry and Pippin are still alive?"

She did not answer for a moment. Randiriel had waited for so long, so many times, for people to return from war. She had led them into battle, and then brought them out, carrying the bodies of their dead. She had looked upon soldiers screaming her name as they were dragged away by the people of Rhun, had run towards them, slashing left, right, and centre in her attempts to reach them. She had not always succeeded, and one one of her rides into Rhun to rescue the Haradic prisoners, she had been caught, though her company had escaped. She had been daily tortured for three hours, for five months. She still shivered to think of the whips and hot irons; the scars had not faded from her back and legs for years. At last she had been able to kill her tormentors with one of their own knives, and had escaped, only to find that six of the eighteen prisoners had been tortured into insanity, and three had died under questioning. She left Rhun with the six who had gone mad and the nine who were barely clinging to life; they had barely reached Harad in time. The six who had lost their minds eventually came back to their senses; they remembered who they were and no longer screamed in the night, but their spirits were but shadows of their former selves. The waiting, the uncertainty, of not knowing whether people you cared about were alive or dead, was the most terrible thing she had undergone.

"I hope they are," she whispered. Then she smiled. "You need not worry about Huidhenel; you know that a bite from her teeth can be instant death and that she can transport her spirit to Mordor if she received a fatal wound. And Merry and Pippin did escape into the forest, we know that much. I doubt anything too terrible can befall them in here."

"And what about your husband?"

Randiriel was slightly startled. "The borders of Lorien are growing perilous day by day, but it is still a place of safety for those who reside there."

"No, what I meant was...do you miss him?"

"That is like asking if I would miss the sun if it was gone," she said with a smile. "He's always in my mind, always in my heart. We are one, and every moment we are apart I long for him to return."

"That is what I think about Quethiel; every second, I am worrying for her, all on her own with the little hobbits. Do you know how much she loves me, and I her?"

"I can imagine. I can see it in your eyes, Morwen."

"I should have taken better care of her," said Morwen, a single tear falling from her eye.

"She is a woman now; she is old enough to decide her path for herself."

"Did she not seem like no more than a child to you, Randiriel?"

"She seemed young indeed to me, but only because I have seen two hundred years come in and grow old. And I am still considered young by the elves. You have both seen sadness and hardship; and that makes a woman of girl much more than ten years of growing could have done."

"I still worry about her, though," said Morwen, exhaling heavily."

At once they heard Legolas cry out in surprise. Getting up hastily, they hastened toward him. He was coming back out of the trees, shock on his face.

"Huidhenel is lying in those trees."

Randiriel's hands covered her mouth.

"Is she hurt?" asked Morwen.

"No." Legolas paused. "She is sleeping in the arms of an Uruk-Hai. The one who carried her away."

"What?" asked Randiriel in disbelief.

Legolas beckoned them forth, and they followed him into another clump of trees. Huidhenel was indeed lying there, enfolded in the arms of an Uruk-Hai. Yet he did not look truly orkish or goblin, as were the others; he was taller, more slender, and his face could be called nothing but elvish, even though it was nearly as dark as soot. Part of his nose was missing and scars stood out against every visible inch of skin. The little finger of his left hand was missing, and the ring finger had been severed at the highest joint. But the soul-less quality of the face that Randiriel and Legolas had seen in so many other orcs was not there. If anything, it was gentle, slightly tormented, and worried.

Randiriel leaned down and shook Huidhenel's shoulder. She stirred, saying, "Five more minutess, please, Sharku," and then grew still again. Randiriel shook her again, and then Huidhenel woke, blinking in the light from Legolas's small torch. Looking around at the three of them, she breathed out in relief.

"You are here," she said with a smile.

Legolas gave a laugh of relief and sat down beside her. Then he remembered the strange uruk-hai. He looked over at him, giving Huidhenel a questioning glance.

"He was my caretaker back when I was in Mordor," said Huidhenel. "He raised me, since about forty years after my forging."

"Where are Merry and Pippin?" asked Legolas.

"They are not with you?" asked Huidhenel. Her eyes grew wide and fearful. "For the love of Orodruin, Legolas, I know not where they are!"

* * *

Quethiel was sitting alone on a rock. Frodo and Sam were sleeping close by, and Gollum was cackling away to himself by a pool. She was not sure what she felt about Gollum; more than anything, she supposed she pitied him. On impulse, she slid off her rock and walked over to him, sitting next to him and dangling her feet in the pool.

"Hello, Gollum," she said. He did not answer, but only shot her a strange look.

"Did you know Huidhenel?" she asked.

There was no reply. Quethiel elaborated. "A girl who looked like an elf, with black eyes and hair? His daughter?"

Gollum's eyes widened with recognition and he spoke. "We remembers, yes. They was hurting us-" Gollum paused and shuddered-"With fire and iron, precious, and it was nasty, yes precious. We cried and screamed and we said we _hadn't got it _but they didn't listen to us. After some time, through our voices we hearses another voice too, a girl's voice. She was screaming at _him _to let us go, said she would take our place. He shut her up in the tower when he made them hurt us. She was a nice girl," said Gollum. "He called her Ash Nazg, we remembers well." He stopped once again. "She was sorry for us. She wanted to let us go, we could hear her begging him. Do you know her?"

"Yes; she is called Huidhenel now." said Quethiel. "She was traveling with us for a while."

"Then she has escaped from him; he won't hurt her anymore like he hurt us?"

"He never hurt her; he was her father." She reflected over what she knew of Huidhenel's creation. "If he ever loved anything, it was Huidhenel he loved."

"Then girl is safe," said Gollum. "Girl takes care of us, she tried to."

"I'm glad," said Quethiel softly.

"No! Don't listen to her, precious. Elf girl's dead, that's what I told you, there's nobody to look after you now." said Gollum. Quethiel jumped in shock.

"Excuse me?" she said, not sure she had heard right. But now, Gollum seemed to be replying to his previous thought himself.

"But girl's seen her, precious, she's seen her, just days ago. Elf girl tried to take care of us; wasn't her fault, precious. We heard her screaming for him to let us go, and if she's near by-"

"She's not nearby, precious, you're a liar-"

"Not listening, not listening-"

"Thief-" Gollum was now shaking his head wildly, tears beginning in his eyes.

"Murderer."

"Go away," said Gollum, beginning to sob, "I hate you. I hate you."

"Go away!" Gollum laughed. "Where would we be without me? I saved us. We survived because of me!"

"Not any more."

"What did you say?"

"Master looks after us now," said Gollum, fixing an invisible person with his eyes. "We don't need you."

"What?"

"Leave now and never come back!"

Gollum growled.

"Leave! Now! And never come back!"

Then Gollum looked around and whispered. "We told him to go away-and away he goes! Gone, gone, gone! Smeagol is free!"

Then another small sob escape his throat. "She's not dead. I won't think it."

Shocked, Quethiel realized that he had just said _I. _Not we, not precious, but _I. _

Not knowing what else to do, Quethiel put her arms around Gollum's lank and skinny form and hugged him. He continued to sob against the soft fabric of her crumpled tunic and to gurgle in his throat.

Yet though they sat there in the night by the pool for several minutes after that, Gollum did not push Quethiel away.

"I am all right now." he said at last, and Quethiel stepped back, still surprised at what had once transpired. It was not Gollum who was looking at her now from those lamplike eyes, but someone who had lived a lifetime of misery, only to step forward into the morning after an infinitely long night. Gollum himself was now looking at his hands and feet as if he could not believe that they were his.

"He's gone, I am free," he said, as if doubtful that the strange, one-sided conversation Quethiel had just witnessed had actually occurred.

"Gollum-" began Quethiel, wanting to ask him exactly what had just transpired.

"My name isn't Gollum," said Gollum, looking directly into her eyes. Then he stood up, on his own feet, not crawling as he usually did on hands and feet. He swayed slightly and said, "He shouldn't have walked on my handses; they look like spiders." Facing Quethiel again, he spoke.

"My name is not Gollum; I am Smeagol. Gollum is gone, and he's never coming back." Upon Gollum's-or was it Smeagol, now?-face was a triumphant smile. "Never. He can stay away; I don't want him...and I don't want the precious!" He shot the ring, hanging about Frodo's neck, a venomous glare.

He took some uncertain steps forward, and then laughed, a human-sounding laugh, not his old rough cackle.

"My name! My name!" He was euphoric, exhilarated. "I am Smeagol! I remember my name!"

* * *

So yes, Gollum is officially converted back to his old self. Gollum is good for good now. He's saved and is over time going to begin looking like what he was before the ring.

REVIEW! PLZ! I GAVE YOU THIS NICE LONG CHAPPIE, YOU HAVE TO REVIEW!


	34. Chapter 34

So I was just wondering; if any of you guys have ideas after reading chapters, you are more than welcome to send them to me! Though it might seem I have a wolrd of imagination to use for my stories, i do sometimes run short! So please, I would love to see what you guys think should happen to Huidhenel, Legolas, Randiriel, Haldir, Quethiel, Morwen, and all the rest of them. So what are you waiting for! Send all the ideas you have ever had! *kisses every reviewer and presents them with oreos, milk, turmeric milk (for Gollum Girl 2003 Coraline; she gets it cause she needs it) and umm...choco shortbreak, strawberry mousse, tiramisu, apple upside down cake, peach cobbler...yes...all goodies. And don't forget to review XD

-A Diamond in the Rough


	35. Chapter 35

So, guys, I just felt like being nice and giving you another chappie. I am infinitely sorry about this late update! No really! I am. Hope you like this nice long one,

NOTE: A CHERISHED PAST AND A TROUBLED FUTURE, WILL BE UPDATED SATURDAY.

BEFORE THE COMING OF THE STARS; SATURDAY :p

This was co written with Vic Johns so it might not be the same style that I regularly do, but my style and his are pretty similar, so just shoot me a PM if it is too strikingly different and we will no longer co write...well...we will co write other works, but from the beginning so there are no differences in the writing style halfway through the story.

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing and if I did, I would be brilliant, not alive and I'd be a guy. Unless Christopher owns it, that is.

* * *

There have been 6490 Views...oh god, I'm squee-ing here.

* * *

Ah! DO YOU KNOW WHAT? ASHLING IS ACTUALLY A NAME! I was so surprised when i found out, but yes, Ashling is a name and it means 'dreams.'

* * *

THE SOUTHRON USED HERE IS AN ACTUAL LANGUAGE I SPEAK, TRANSLATIONS WILL BE AT THE BOTTOM. I have not found any reference to Southron as a language anywhere, so I just used an existing language.

* * *

_I will not be updating as often now, as with my promotion my workload has definitely increased. I will probably be able to update maybe only once a week or so._

* * *

Huidhenel and Sharku had now joined their company. Though they had all been searching, they had found not a trace of Merry and Pippin. Aragorn had, however, found very strange tracks that nobody could explain, which began where the hobbits' ended.

"They are like no tracks I have ever seen before," he said wonderingly. "What creatures could have made prints so large?"

"I do not know; we should press on after them," said Legolas, bending down to look at them.

"_Salya_ _Madharchot_," cursed Randiriel. "The thing will have moved extremely quickly, faster than a running horse. We should start at once."

Sharku exhaled heavily and exchanged looks with Huidhenel, muttering something low in Orkish. Then he snorted and tried to muffle his laughter in his black sleeve.

Huidhenel's lips curled upward and she began to laugh softly. Randiriel looked at her, puzzled. "What is it?"

She smiled. "I have seen and heard many things in my long life, Randiriel, but an elf-maid cursing in Southron was not one of them."

Randiriel sighed. "I am not really an elf; I am not immortal. I gave up my immortality. Let us go."

* * *

That night, while they camped, Randiriel had a strange dream; she was back in Harad, dressed in the garb of a Haradrim bride. She was garbed in red silk, and gold dust had been brushed over her eyelids. Her blonde hair was once again dark, the black color she had dyed it when she had first arrived in Harad. Her lips were tinted with coral, and her skin was once again the color or dark copper. Though she could tell at once that she did not stand at a wedding; she was dancing before the _krigsherre, _but he looked different from what she remembered...younger, paler of skin, and slimmer than the blustering man she remembered. The pulse of the music beat through her body like the heartbeat of a living thing, and she heard the words issuing from her lips...

_"O re piya haye..  
O re piya haye..  
O re piya haye.._

_Udne laga kyon man baawla re_  
_Aaya kahan se yeh hosla re_  
_O re piya haye.._  
_O re piya haye.._

_Tanabana tanabana bunti hawaa haaye bunti hawa_  
_Boondein bhi to aaye nahi baaz yahan_

_Sagish mein shaamil sara jahan hai_  
_Har zare zare ki yeh iltiza hai_

_O re Piya_  
_O re Piya haye.._  
_O re piya haye.._  
_O re Piya_

_Nazrein bolen duniya bole  
dil ki zaban haaye dil ki zubaan  
Ishq maange ishq chahe koi toofan_

Chalna aahiste ishq naya hai  
Pehla yeh vada humne kiya hai

_Nange pairo pe angaro  
chalti rahi haaye chalti rahi  
Lagta hai ke gairo mein  
Palti rahi haaye  
le chal wahan jo  
Mulk tera hai  
Jahil zamana  
dushman mera hai_

_O re piya haye..  
O re piya haye..  
O re piya haye..."_

Then, she saw herself stepping into the Karunoko Turn; it was a very fast spin that only the strongest dancers could attempt, even; it included ten successive turns on the point of one bare toe. Randiriel had never been able to do it while she had been in Harad. She watched in awe as she spun in place, her arms held close to her body, her hair fanning out behind her. One face stood out amongst the sea before her; the face of a laughing baby, perhaps a month old, in the arms of a young girl who looked to be about thirteen or fourteen. The child's face was the only fair one there, a pale peach, with laughing blue eyes...Haldir's eyes. Her hair, her nose, his mouth. This was Haldir's and her son. Though it was where she had also endured the most pain, she was where she had been happiest, in the thrum of music under a velvet sky and stars. The _krigsherre _came down from his throne, bowed at her feet, placing his head by them, as was customary to do for one superior in standing. Randiriel stepped back in shock; for the _krigsherre _was equal to a Western King.

He offered her his hand; she saw herself place it hesitantly in his. They then proceeded to dance in the dusty earth, their bare feet keeping in time with the whirling music. She barely heard the applause about them, the whispers that she would be an excellent queen for him from the crowd. But dancing with the warlord was nothing romantic, for either of them. It was a dance of friendship, of brother-and-sisterhood.

_"Anjana?" _he said.

"_Yes?" _she heard herself reply.

_"Haldir of Lorien is a lucky man, my dear..."_

_"No, I am the lucky woman."_

_"If I should fall when the day for battle comes...do me the honors that are due a friend, would you not?"_

_"If I live and you die, I should be the most unworthy soldier who ever served under you, Airoth..."_

_"It is true that the krigsherre should be the last to fall. But I am passing on my rule to you, at this very moment."_

_"Airoth..."_

_"Who knows this land better than you, Anjana? Who knows that we are not bloodthirsty killers? Who knows that we only ever fought for Sauron to take back five thousand prisoners, a treaty between us? Who knows that that day you led us in battle was the day we realized our folly? And who can ride the untamable mumak that answers to you and to you alone, who has borne no master for eighty years since you left Harad?"_

_"But i have other duty as well, my friend..."_

_"I know; you are a wife, you are a mother, and I know how it tears your heart to go despite your son Suiauthon."_

_"But i must leave ; I should never have fallen in Helm's Deep. It tore me so, knowing there was a child within me whom I had slain in my ignorance...I have a duty to this world. If I fall, Suiauthon must remain here. Haldir will find his way to him, if he yet lives; but the Haradrim are my people, the Haradrim saved me from taking my own life. They are his people too, he was born here, among him, and if I lived, it would be still here that they remain."_

_"And the Deas have granted you rebirth, Anjana. You were worthy of it; who is to say they will not do it again? And no one can lead the people of Harad into battle better than you can."_

_"If I am the krigsherre," _she said, tasting the word upon her tongue_, "I shall be the first to fall. If I am their leader and I return without them, it is shameful."_

_"You are right, as I knew you would." _Then he sighed._ "Aayaa kahaan se yah honslaa re_? _You are a woman; I ought to be mystified."_

_"Ai, thobad banda." _she said, punching him lightly in the shoulder, with a slight grin._ "Our women are not like the other humans; they can take up their scimitars and go to war just as well as the men. We are all trained in battle from birth; it is only for the children that the mothers remain."_

_"But you are a mother, and you have borne a child less than one month past, no less. Y__ou love Suiauthon with every fiber of your being."_

_"Yes; but they do say that bringing a child into the world with one's own blood and sweat binds a mother and baby more than anything else. You know how Suiauthon came into being; the Deas gave him a body of his own because I was needed in this war and I would not have gone if I were with child. For the first week of his life I did not know how to love him; I fed him and sang to him and rocked him merely because I had done the same for Sunnlia so long ago, but they were actions of memory, not of my heart. Only later did I feel that yearning in my heart whenever I looked at my son sleeping, every time I saw his eyes. I am going for him, too. For this is his world, and if I cannot bring myself to protect it for him, Airoth, then what _can _I do?"_

He nodded then, and bowing to her once again, though not placing his forehead by her feet, he took the winged crown from his head and set it upon hers, kneeling before her feet.

"Anjana, _maim taja apna rani...thikka Haradrim neretva."_

A collective gasp rang throughout the assembled crowd, but as they bowed before her on that chilly night, and the prayers for her long and prosperous reign were made, she found herself wishing for nothing but that Haldir was safe, and that he could leave Lothlorien and live in Harad with her. For this was her country, and these were her people. Her hair was golden and her skin fair, it was true, but with her long tresses colored a deep, hard black and her skin tanned a dark bronze, she felt like an animal in its own skin. She was not born to live within the clusters of towering trees, the softly scented flowers and the tinkling fountains. She was not born to be a Princess in a forest of darkness. She had been sent to that world for that land, for Harad, for its swaying palm trees, its sparkling oases, its clear, star-filled nights, even its burning heats, its sand dunes, the mumakil. She had not been created for a life of cloistering boundaries; she had been made for freedom.

She had been born to be a Haradrim Queen, to give back her life's blood to the people who had given her so much, to lead them into battle, to be the first to die for the innocent left behind. She wondered whether her husband could ever leave the land of his birth and then she knew that no matter what path Haldir chose after the war, there was no choice for her if she yet lived. She would return to Harad, speak the tongue that had sung her away from fear and despair, and train soldiers for battle, just as she had done all her life. Suiauthon would be raised to be like all the men and women who had done worlds for her; he would be brave, he would be strong, he would be kind, and more so than any other elf could ever be.

* * *

When she awoke, she realized with a jolt that this was no dream of the past.

She was indeed to go back to her home, in the near future, no less.

At that thought, Randiriel thought of Haldir with a pang. Could he ever leave Lothlorien, the Valley of Singing Dreams...even if it was for the wife he had sworn his will and love to?

Or to the son who had yet to come into that world?

* * *

TRANSLATION OF RANDIRIEL'S SONG:

re piyaa haaye o re piyaa...  
**O Sweetheart/beloved**

Urne lagaa kyon man baawlaa re  
**Why did my crazy soul begin to fly?**

Aayaa kahaan se yah honslaa re  
**Where did this courage come from?**

o re piyaa o re piyaa haaye  
(O beloved...)

Taanaa-baanaa taanaa-baanaa buntii hawaa haaye bunti hawaa  
**The whole nature is conspiring against me**

Boonden bhii to aaye nahin baaz yahaan  
**Even the raindrops won't shower here again**

Saazish mein shaamil saaraa jahaan hai  
**The whole world is part of the plan**

har zarre zarre ki yah intezaar hai  
**I have waited for so long**

o re piyaa  
**O sweetheart**  
o re piyaa haaye o re piyaa haaye  
o re piyaa

nazaren bolen duniyaa bole  
**The glances are telling, the world is telling**

dil kii zabaan haaye dil kii zabaan  
**The story of my heart, oh, the story of my heart**

ishq maange ishq chaahe koii tuufaan  
**Love prays, love wishes for a storm**

chalnaa aahiste ishq nayaa hai  
**A new love slowly walks in**

pahalaa yah waadaa ham ne kiyaa hai  
**This is the first promise we made**

nange pairon pe angaron pe chaltii rahii haaye chaltii rahii  
**I kept on walking barefooted on burning charcoal**

lagtaa hai ke gairo.n me.n me.n paltii rahii haaye  
**Oh, it seems that you were brought up among strangers**

le chal wahaa.n jo mulk teraa hai  
**Take me to the country which is yours**

zaahil zamaanaa dushman meraa hai haaye  
**Oh, the cruel world is my enemy**

On another note, I made up the term 'Karunoko Turn.' Karunoko literally means 'do not do it' so, yeah, I decided to use it.

Thobad banda=shut your face. :P

"Anjana, _maim taja apna rani...thikka Haradrim neretva."= Anjana, I crown you queen, lead the Haradrim well._


	36. Chapter 36

So, guys, I just felt like being nice and giving you another chappie. I am infinitely sorry about this late update! No really! I am. Hope you like this nice long one,

NOTE: A CHERISHED PAST AND A TROUBLED FUTURE, WILL BE UPDATED TOMORROW.

BEFORE THE COMING OF THE STARS; I don't know, but soon/

This was co written with Vic Johns so it might not be the same style that I regularly do, but my style and his are pretty similar, so just shoot me a PM if it is too strikingly different and we will no longer co write...well...we will co write other works, but from the beginning so there are no differences in the writing style halfway through the story.

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing and if I did, I would be brilliant, not alive and I'd be a guy. Unless Christopher owns it, that is.

* * *

There have been 6490 Views...oh god, I'm squee-ing here.

* * *

Ah! DO YOU KNOW WHAT? ASHLING IS ACTUALLY A NAME! I was so surprised when i found out, but yes, Ashling is a name and it means 'dreams.'

* * *

THE SOUTHRON USED HERE IS AN ACTUAL LANGUAGE I SPEAK, TRANSLATIONS WILL BE AT THE BOTTOM. I have not found any reference to Southron as a language anywhere, so I just used an existing language.

* * *

_I will not be updating as often now, as with my promotion my workload has definitely increased. I will probably be able to update maybe only once a week or so._

* * *

"Not make the nasty red tongues," said Gollum, looking severely at Sam. "It'll bring enemies, yes it will!"

"Well, I won't let it smoke, if it's any comfort to you, and it won't unless you put wet stuff on it and make a smother," said Sam.

"All right, fine," said Gollum.

"Why don't you like fire?" asked Quethiel.

"They hurt me with it. That's why. Don't let it anywhere near me!" said Gollum, throwing up his hands.

"I won't," said Quethiel.

Suddenly a strange sound came to Frodo's ears and he quietly slipped away, unnoticed by both Quethiel and Sam. Gollum had withdrawn to sulk in the bushes, annoyed by Sam's fire.

When Sam and Quethiel, along with Gollum, caught up with him, they stood amazed by the sight that met their eyes. Huge animals, with legs easily fifteen feet tall, enourmous noses which nearly touched the ground when they walked, and tusks like a boar's which were almost the length of its legs.

"It's an Oliphaunt," said Sam in wonder. "The folks at home would never believe this."

The soldiers atop and around the Oliphaunts were dressed in black, gold glinting about them. Quethiel realized with a jolt that these must be the Haradrim, Randiriel's people. Who were they fighting for?

* * *

Sorry this is so short :(


	37. NOTE FROM LILY'S HUSBAND

So sorry that the stories haven't been updated lately! This is Lily's husband, Vic (Lily is A Diamond in the Rough btw, for those of you who didn't know)

Lily came down with a really bad E. Coli infection and she went into coma earlier this morning; she was throwing up so much that she couldn't eat or sleep and eventually she passed out. While we were in the hospital she got a really bad reaction to one of the medicines and went into coma, which is what we found out a few hours ago.

However, she came out after her antibiotics were changed. She hasn't woken up yet but she's not actually in coma anymore, she's just asleep and plus they've given her something in the IV to keep her sleeping for a few more hours. There was a huge risk of heart attacks, hemorrhaging, and even her dying, but she's going to be okay now, I don't know what I'd do if she weren't.

She will be in the hospital for some time now, they will probably discharge her on Saturday night at the very very earliest, the doctors say that she should stay there until at least Monday or Tuesday. She'll be waaaaaaaay to tired to update for a while, she's not been able to hold down solid food for two days, she's hooked up to an IV port, etc.

Earlier, when she was conscious and the doctors thought she wouldn't make it, she told me to say goodbye to all her fanfiction readers for her. But, thank God, she'll be here. I love her so much, if she died, I'd not wait a second before killing myself. A world without my wife in it wouldn't be one worth living in, and I couldn't bear to exist without her.

Hoping you guys are all okay, and healthy!

Victor Johns.


	38. Chapter 38

So...I'm thinking of doing a prequel to Ash Nazg of Sauron, Huidhenel of Middle Earth. It will be, basically

1. Randiriel's life before coming to Lorien. Her childhood in Mirkwood as Haeronwen, the Vande Vanya.

2. Morwen and Quethiel's lives as young children. Friendship fluff between them, Boromir, and Faramir.

3. Little Huidhenel and Huidhenel/Suiauthon romance.

4. Toddler Legolas. Oh, the places I can take that...

5. Icy Bachelor Haldir. :P and his brother's attempts to find him a bride

6. Suiauthon/Legolas brother fluff

7. Sauron/Huidhenel father daughter fluff

8. Any ideas?

Oh, btw, there's gonna b a massive twist. BESIDES the one I have already hinted at. And No, its not tragic. You guys all know how Quethiel was in love with Faramir? Because I hate non-canon (unless it's Dramione or Fremione) pairings, he still ends up happily married to Eowyn. Quethiel ends up with something else all together...

OH THE TITLE! It's gonna be called The Waking of the Past.


	39. Chapter 39

So, guys, I just felt like being nice and giving you another chappie. I am infinitely sorry about this late update! No really! I am. Hope you like this nice long one,

NOTE: A CHERISHED PAST AND A TROUBLED FUTURE, WILL BE UPDATED TOMORROW.

BEFORE THE COMING OF THE STARS; I don't know, but soon/

This was co written with Vic Johns so it might not be the same style that I regularly do, but my style and his are pretty similar, so just shoot me a PM if it is too strikingly different and we will no longer co write...well...we will co write other works, but from the beginning so there are no differences in the writing style halfway through the story.

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing and if I did, I would be brilliant, not alive and I'd be a guy. Unless Christopher owns it, that is.

* * *

There have been 6490 Views...oh god, I'm squee-ing here.

* * *

Ah! DO YOU KNOW WHAT? ASHLING IS ACTUALLY A NAME! I was so surprised when i found out, but yes, Ashling is a name and it means 'dreams.'

* * *

THE SOUTHRON USED HERE IS AN ACTUAL LANGUAGE I SPEAK, TRANSLATIONS WILL BE AT THE BOTTOM. I have not found any reference to Southron as a language anywhere, so I just used an existing language.

* * *

_I will not be updating as often now, as with my promotion my workload has definitely increased. I will probably be able to update maybe only once a week or so._

* * *

Quethiel looked down upon the Haradrim in awe. Gold glittered from many of their veils, and she was astounded to see that nearly half of them were women. Though they were dressed exactly like the men, something about their eyes made it plain that they were not. They were tall, slender, lithe, and walked with a dignity that Quethiel had never seen in a human being before._ So this is where Randiriel came from. _Randiriel's queenly bearing was clear now; she had been among these people since she had been a half-grown elleth.

_Who are they fighting for?_

The answer was clear; she knew without question that they fought for the Eye, for Huidhenel's father. However, Quethiel could not bring herself to detest these people as she did orcs, for here were people who possessed more discipline and more wisdom, perhaps, than the elves. Something about their manner made it clear that none of them were willing to fight as they were; there seemed to be a light of sacrifice in some of their eyes. Upon seeing that, Quethiel blinked; it made no sense whatsoever.

Suddenly, a birdlike call drifted through the trees. Quethiel immediately stiffened; she knew she had heard it before. Where had she heard it? Looking around, she saw that Smeagol, Sam, and Frodo were no longer with her. Then she heard a cry-it was Sam. Throwing caution to the winds, she ran back down the path, searching for them. She could hear soft footsteps marking her path, quicker than Smeagol's, heavier than the hobbits'.

"Frodo!" she called, her voice tearing desperately through the rushes. "Where are you! Sam! Smeagol!"

"Do not move," she heard from behind her. In panic, she darted to the side, continuing to rush through the drying swamp.

"Frodo! Frodo!" shouted Quethiel.

From behind her came a sound of surprise. Bending to pick up a stick, Quethiel turned to face this new danger.

But the eyes that met hers were tender, surprised, and more familiar to Quethiel than the sun that rose for her every morning.

"Quethiel?" he said, shocked nearly to the point of silence.

In answer, she ran blindly forward and found herself enclosed in the arms she had sought for comfort ever since childhood.

"Faramir."

* * *

Sauron was sitting in his daughter's deserted room. Looking upon the orb which he had set in the center of the room to keep watch upon her, he wondered what course of action she should take.

He had always known she did not agree with what he believed in. But this...he refused it to call it betrayal. What else would he have expected her to do, after she had seen the beauty of the world he had tried so much to keep her from, and seen the ruin of the land she had been raised in?

Thanking Melkor that he had sent Sharku to lead Saruman's Uruk-Hai, he looked, unseeing, at the palantir.


	40. Chapter 40

So, guys, I just felt like being nice and giving you another chappie. I am infinitely sorry about this late update! No really! I am. Hope you like this nice long one,

NOTE: A CHERISHED PAST AND A TROUBLED FUTURE, WILL BE UPDATED TOMORROW.

BEFORE THE COMING OF THE STARS; I don't know, but soon/

This was co written with Vic Johns so it might not be the same style that I regularly do, but my style and his are pretty similar, so just shoot me a PM if it is too strikingly different and we will no longer co write...well...we will co write other works, but from the beginning so there are no differences in the writing style halfway through the story.

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing and if I did, I would be brilliant, not alive and I'd be a guy. Unless Christopher owns it, that is.

* * *

There have been 6490 Views...oh god, I'm squee-ing here.

* * *

Ah! DO YOU KNOW WHAT? ASHLING IS ACTUALLY A NAME! I was so surprised when i found out, but yes, Ashling is a name and it means 'dreams.'

* * *

THE SOUTHRON USED HERE IS AN ACTUAL LANGUAGE I SPEAK, TRANSLATIONS WILL BE AT THE BOTTOM. I have not found any reference to Southron as a language anywhere, so I just used an existing language.

* * *

_I will not be updating as often now, as with my promotion my workload has definitely increased. I will probably be able to update maybe only once a week or so._

* * *

Preview of the second to last chapter: This part of the book won't be out until December or November at the earliest.

Huidhenel watched Orodruin tremble, and then shoot a plume of flame into the air. All she could think about was what must have happened to Frodo and Sam-and Gollum. Her heart seemed to break at that; the creature she had tried so much to save.

With her breath catching in her throat, she watched the ground sink, watched the land of her birth descend into the earth. Terrified, she lifted her gaze up to the Tower of the Eye. She could feel her father's presence, his gaze not to the mountain where his Nazg had been destroyed, but upon her. Through her ears, instead of the great crash of the stone and the hissing of the mountain, a hundred elvish lullabies drifted. Herself as a child, being rocked to sleep in Sharku's arms. Shrieking with laughter as the witch-king took her high above Mordor upon his steed. Standing, shamed, before Sharku as he scolded her for throwing her books into the flames...weeping as Suiauthon's heart ceased to beat.

Her first sight of Suiauthon, whose eyes had widened in wonder at the sight of an elleth draped in the garments of the Black Land...

All the years of love, of pain.

With the beam of the Eye shining down upon her, she looked directly upon it. She saw not the demon that the others did when they saw it, but someone who had sat beside her, taught her how to read, shown her what it was to know love. She heard a voice in the night to soothe away her fears. Could she hear that song yet?

"_Lay down your sweet and weary head...night is falling..._

_You have come to journey's end..._

_sleep now..._

_And dream of the ones that came before..._

_they are calling..._

_From across that distant shore..._

_why do you weep? _

_What are these tears upon your face? _

_Soon you will see all your fears will pass away. _

_You are only sleeping..."_

And in that second, she made a decision. _Forgive me, my father. _

Huidhenel turned to Legolas, and somehow, she knew not now, she rested in his arms. An unspoken vow was sealed in that moment. One that both ought to have made...

"I ought to have done this before," she murmured against his lips.

She felt him laugh. "So should I."

And now she could never do it again. Suiauthon's laugh echoed through her ears, mingled with her own. She knew now, why it was that she had loved twice, when it was said all over Middle Earth that elves only loved once, for eternity. It had been Ash Nazg who had loved Suiauthon; and Huidhenel yet did. Something in her had changed when she had changed her name; Huidhenel belonged to Legolas, and Ash Nazg had belonged to Suiauthon.

Ashling belonged to Sharku, and the Ash belonged to Sauron-had always belonged to him-and always would. Somehow, she was all of these at once, each the same, yet so uniquely different from the others.

There was only one path for her now. She lowered her hand to Legolas's belt, sliding his spare dagger free from its sheath. She heard his breath catch in surprise as he saw her draw it forth and run the flat of the blade against her hand, testing its sharpness. Regret filled her eyes, and she lifted them to Legolas's confused ones.

"I love you," she said, for the first time.

"And I you," he said, his arms tightening about her.

It was a lifetime which swam before her eyes, in which Legolas's face stood out like the sun in the sky.

_I was destined for this fate. I could never have escaped it; it was only a matter of time. I will put us both at peace, and then this whole cursed mishap will be at an end. _

"Forgive me," she said, not knowing to whom she spoke...to her father...to Suiauthon...to Sharku...to Legolas...

"What on Arda for, Huidhenel?" His eyes were tender as he looked at her.

"All things pass away in the end...Randiriel died...so did Suiauthon...even those of the Eldar must bid goodbye to life in the end. Sometimes our fates are marked for us from the beginning...and those who love them are left behind to grieve."

"I would die without you," said Legolas, concerned gaze searching her face.

"No, you would live without me. I would never forgive you if you dared to die without living a full life," said Huidhenel. She raised her eyes once more to the tower, the sole thing in Mordor which stood.

She whispered softly, "Strike true."

She could hear her father crying out _No, Ash! Do not do it, I beg of you, do not!_

And she knew for whom he pleaded-not for himself, but for her.

_I am sorry-believe me...but there is no other way!_

She heard no reply, but a desperation which seemed to pulse through her very soul. Huidhenel raised the dagger and plunged it into her stomach.

Faintly, Legolas's cry of _No! _met her ears, joined by the cries of _Ash, I can save you yet, please! _which she knew that only she could hear.

Then something else beat through her body; wonderingly, she raised a bloodstained hand to her heart, feeling, for the first time, the steady throb of life from the thing that had been solid stone for the last thousand years. Then she found she could no longer stand, and she sank to the ground, the world going black about her.

She saw that the Eye was flickering out, and in her ears heard her name whispered. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she whispered Legolas's name one last time, felt his hand close upon hers.

Had the eyes of Huidhenel closed upon that world but moments later, she would have felt the dagger ripped from her loose fingers, seen it plunged into another breast, heard a dying cry not of agony, but of a soul wounded to its core.

Had she lived but a heartbeat's length longer, Huidhenel would have felt blood not her own wash over her, feel herself taken up in a pair of trembling arms, and then, the stop of a heart which had slain itself for her.

* * *

(A/N: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!)


	41. Chapter 41

I am so out of ideas guys, I need you!

So.

1. What do you think should happen to Randiriel and her son after she "dies?"

2. Who should Quethiel end up with?

3. Should Haldir live to see Randiriel again?

4. Should Huidhenel really die? If enough of you don't want me to I won't kill her.

5. Should Legolas live?

6. Should Boromir and Morwen end up together?

That's it I think. I won't have as much time for writing because I am better and back to work as of today, so send me all of your ideas either by PM or by review.

I love you guys! Brankel1, horseyyay, GollumGirl 2003 Coraline (I love you, sweetheart), um...Rastas...Elves are awesome...TinaMaki...sparkles are my life...um...the warg or arda...spotted mask...all my anonymouses, as I call them, and yes, I call them that...the queen of eryn lasgalen...

THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR REVIEWING!


	42. Chapter 42

So, guys, I just felt like being nice and giving you another chappie. I am infinitely sorry about this late update! No really! I am. Hope you like this nice long one,

NOTE: A CHERISHED PAST AND A TROUBLED FUTURE, not this week

beFORE THE COMING OF THE STARS; I don't know, but soon/

This was co written with Vic Johns so it might not be the same style that I regularly do, but my style and his are pretty similar, so just shoot me a PM if it is too strikingly different and we will no longer co write...well...we will co write other works, but from the beginning so there are no differences in the writing style halfway through the story.

* * *

WINNERS FOR THE OUTCOMES OF THE STORY

1. Randiriel and Haldir are both gonna make it to the end.

2. Found a brilliant person for Quethiel to love! Not gonna say here, it will spoil your surprise.

3. Boromir and Morwen will fall in love but I'm not gonna tell you if they live.

4. Legolas is going to live, I won't say if Huidhenel does.

I would like to thank the people who gave me the winning ideas!

And thanks GOLLUMGIRL 2003 CORALINE for giving me the idea for the person that Quethiel falls in love with!

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing and if I did, I would be brilliant, not alive and I'd be a guy. Unless Christopher owns it, that is.

AND IMPORTANT!: The scene with Randiriel and Haldir declaring their love for each other when they are sitting in that tree after the ball takes place thirty years before the story

* * *

There have been 6490 Views...oh god, I'm squee-ing here.

* * *

Ah! DO YOU KNOW WHAT? ASHLING IS ACTUALLY A NAME! I was so surprised when i found out, but yes, Ashling is a name and it means 'dreams.'

* * *

THE SOUTHRON USED HERE IS AN ACTUAL LANGUAGE I SPEAK, TRANSLATIONS WILL BE AT THE BOTTOM. I have not found any reference to Southron as a language anywhere, so I just used an existing language.

* * *

_I will not be updating as often now, as with my promotion my workload has definitely increased. I will probably be able to update maybe only once a week or so._

* * *

"This is ridiculous," said Morwen as they clambered through the forest, breaking brambles and getting their feet scratched as they went.

They had met Gandalf again, and Morwen had noticed the almost tearful joy with which the others greeted him. As for Huidhenel, she stood looking at him with her head on one side, but did not speak. She and Gandalf seemed to have had a lengthy and thoroughly nonverbal conversation with their eyes which no one else had understood. At one point Huidhenel began to look somewhat desperate, and a new light of understanding came into his eyes.

"I am sorry," he said aloud, and bewildered the others.

Huidhenel sighed and then strode off ahead of the others, who looked at each other in confusion. Sharku, however, was looking into the distance after her, and then said, "Ai Valar," in a tone of quiet sadness.

"What was that all about?" asked Boromir.

"I don't know," said Randiriel. Then she lifted her voice and called to Huidhenel. "Huidhenel! Ichde a ye! Thikde kaithuri asushakel, ani nanthar kai carnar tu?"

"Ananda varbar bhuta la zanar! Sodun de mala!" came Huidhenel's voice, drifting angrily back to the other seven of them through the trees.

Randiriel's eyes widened and she said in shock, "What is the matter with her?"

"Why? What did she say?" asked Gandalf.

"You do not know Southron?" asked Randiriel in surprise.

Gandalf laughed. "I have never been into Rhun or Harad long enough to learn the language, unlikely though it may seem. What did she say?"

"Well...first I called her, and asked her to come back, and what she would do if she found something unpleasant there."

"And then?" asked Legolas. Before waiting for Randiriel to answer the question, he asked, "Should I go after her?"

"No. Then she said that she would gladly go to the devil, and to let her be. I suggest that none of you approach her until she is in a more peaceful state of mind."

Legolas clearly disagreed with this, but seemingly decided to wait for Huidhenel to return.

"Haldir, the Marchwarden, has married a young elleth," said Gandalf. "After but a few days of their marriage she left him; Galadriel cannot find a cure for his grief. He is fading."

"What?" cried Randiriel. "How?"

"I do not know; no one had seen Haldir for days when I arrived in Lorien, but Rumil had said that when he last cast eyes upon Haldir, his skin had a strange grey pallor and his eyes had dulled until they looked almost like those of a newly dead corpse, and Orophin remembered his breathing being labored. They both left him in his flet thirteen days past when he became unable to walk, but he was gone when they returned with a healer. He had taken his bow and his sword with him; all that is known is that wherever he went, he went willingly," said Gandalf. "No one has been able to find him; his horse was stabled in its place, but he himself could not be found."

"What have I done?" said Randiriel to herself, passing a hand over her brow. "What have I done?"

"What have you done?" asked Gandalf, clearly feeling that he was missing something.

Randiriel turned to him. "I am Haldir's wife! The two of us have been lovers for thirty years, I believe...is it not more than sixty since you last walked under the golden trees of Lothlorien?...yes, it is thirty years. We married some weeks ago. Legolas is my brother; I am Haeronwen, the lost Vande-Vanya of Eryn Lasgalen. I decided to go with him when he left Lothlorien...does Haldir believe I am dead?" She sounded close to tears at that moment.

"I do not know, child," said Gandalf. "As I said, no one has seen him...I am worried. I have no knowledge of this."

"And the Lady? Does she know?"

"Just the day before I left, the Lady barricaded herself in the room in which she keeps her Mirror. She gazed upon it all throughout the day, and took no food at all through those hours. What is more, she would not even let the Lord Celeborn past the door, nor call out in answer to his calls. At last she emerged past midnight, when Celeborn had fallen asleep outside the door while waiting for her...

"I had not left the antechamber outside, for I was worried; but when she left the room, she looked absolutely exhausted, though strangely triumphant. She declared that she knew all and that Haldir was safe. What she meant when she said that, I do not know; that is something that I doubt I ever will." Gandalf looked into the shadows ahead into which Huidhenel had disappeared.

* * *

"Quethiel!" Faramir held her at arm's length. "What in the name of the gods are you doing here with the halflings?"

"I chose to go on with them, when our party split at the Anduin," said Quethiel, an immense feeling of relief washing over her.

"Why, though?"

"Because I wanted to," said Quethiel quietly. Her eyes widened when she saw the tall men who were roughly bringing Sam and Frodo down the path. "Turn them loose! Do not handle them so!"

The men stopped when they heard the commanding voice of a girl, not quite a child yet still not a woman either; many of their eyes opened in recognition; the one who held Sam actually rushed forward and embraced her.

"My Lady Quethiel!" he cried, after he had bowed before her and kissed her hand. "What in Arda are you doing here?"

"Playing soldiers with Morwen," retorted Quethiel, but not without awarding the man a dazzling smile. He, in turn, ordered that the halflings be led gently by their captors.

"Where is Morwen?" asked Faramir.

"With Boromir."

"And why, may I ask, are the two of you here? The entire city of Minas Tirith has been terrified! Your mother is prostrate with grief, or she was when I left."

"Oh, is she all right?" cried Quethiel. "She has not fallen ill?"

"No; now that she can no longer depend on the earnings that you and Morwen bring in, she has to work thrice as hard as she did before," said Faramir, staring sternly at Quethiel with a beady eye. "How could you leave her alone, to support herself alone while Foigred was ill? What is more, she has refused the meager help that my Father has offered to her, as well as everything I have pressed her to take; she would not even take the mule I wished to give her, neither the two servant girls whom I told to manage the house and care for Foigred while she is out.

"Not even food from the kitchens of the citadel, she will not even take the honest gifts of her neighbors unless it is absolutely necessary. And everything that she is able to bring, she devotes to Foigred, and she sometimes goes entire days without wishing to eat. Every bite of food that she puts to her lips someone must force her to take, for much of it is given to her; and she is such a proud woman that I fear for her health.

Your uncle is trying to be strong for Quothol, and it has improved his health slightly, his determination to be a comfort and a help to his sister now that you two are gone."

"Oh, Mother," said Quethiel, falling to her knees and putting her face in her hands. "I am sorry!"

"Why did you go? How could you and Morwen do such a thing? Were you tired of your work and your meager earnings?" Faramir sounded angry and disappointed.

Quethiel was not listening to Faramir; she had stopped paying attention to him after realizing that her mother had refused Faramir's help. The family had taken it many times and been grateful for it; so why was it now, when Quothol was in such desperate need of money and so much was at her disposal, she did not take it when she had taken it before? _It was because the help was always for us; she will not take it for herself if she can keep Uncle cared for as he was before Morwen and I left home_. _How was it that we did not think of the money? _

She and Morwen had taken nothing with them but the few coins they had earned that day at their work, in case they ran out of food and needed to buy a little more. Quethiel wove decorative baskets for a market stall which did good business and was a great favorite of all the court ladies; she earned two silver coins every day, which were relatively good wages for a shopkeeper's assistant.

If she was right, she and Morwen had left ten silver coins in small sack on Morwen's dressing table, telling their mother to use it as she saw fit. But ten silver pennies would have run out very quickly; for it took two every day to pay the young woman who looked after Foigred while Quothol was out; it took the same amount to buy the food for the day. The mule that Quothol rented cost a penny every day.

The herbs that helped allay Foigred's chest pain and made the sleeping draughts were extremely expensive, and the family had spent three silver coins a week on them. Quethiel realized that the money they had left would have been used up within three or four days if Quothol bought no more than was necessary.

And Quothol was not as well-paid as were her daughters. She worked in the farms just outside the citadel, running the business of one of them. She was paid every two days, and received three silver coins every other day, and a single gold one at the end of every month. She said that she was laying these up to build up two good dowries for Morwen and Quethiel; every one of these had been locked in a small box ever since Quothol had received them. She had worked on the farm for fifteen years and nine months, ever since Morwen's father had died; the two hundred and eighty-eight gold coins she had were the product of so many years' loving work.

Morwen had earned the most; as the most educated, she had served as a governess for the past three years, earning sixteen silver coins a week.

_How was it that we didn't think?_

"I did it to save uncle; we both did. We were going to Lothlorien to get the cure, and we did; Morwen is making her way home with it now."

"You braved orc-infested lands to bring Lorien soil and leaves?" asked Faramir in disbelief.

"Yes, because we love our uncle," said Quethiel defiantly. "We knew we would get back in two fortnights' time at most. And..."

"...you thought that your mother would accept the held from us that she did before. But it was for you then; she could swallow her pride as long as it was for you, but when it was for her..."

"She didn't want to," said Quethiel with a sigh.

"You say Morwen is coming back home?" asked Faramir.

"Yes; Morwen is going home."


	43. TYLER-MAY!

And the hundredth review was...

drumroll please guys...

she's awesome...

she's really pretty...

she's a dear friend of mine...

her Gollum voice is freaking fabulous...

she thought up Morwen, Randiriel, Foigred, Morwen, Quothol, and Quethiel...

she was my VERY FIRST REVIEWER for this story...

She's the author of fanfictions that have me rolling around on my chair in fits of laughter and seriously annoying my husband...

gimme a T! gimme a Y! gimme an L! Gimme an E! Give me an R! Give me a hyphen (god that just sounds weird, gimme a hyphen lol) Gimme an M! Gimme an A! Give me a Y!

What does that spell?

T-Y-L-E-R M-A-Y!

Thank you so much Gollum Girl 2003 Coraline, for offering your support and friendship ever since the seventeenth of July when this was published.

JE T'AIME AVEC TOUT DE MON COEUR MA PETITE CHERIE, POUR TOUJOURS!

And to all you guys who think I'm being silly making such a fuss over my hundredth review (yes, you are out there, one of them is staring at my computer screen right now) my story that has the next most reviews has only 29, and it was a 53k word story, so i guess you know where i am coming from. kinda. GollumGirl, my dear, this story would not be where it was without you. Imagine! It wouldn't have Randiriel, Morwen, or Quethiel! I mean, what would this story be without them!

WOOT WOOT! WOOT! LILY GOT OVER A HUNDRED REVIEWS! (Vic)

Yes, Vic, I love you too. But this page is devoted to Tyler-May. (Lily)

YAY! (Vic)

Sigh (Lily)

Can I laugh my face off? (Vic)

Are you high or something (Lily)

Yeah, on sugar. BOOYAH! (Vic)

...

You guys, pity me. The silly man went and ate six brownies!

All of you ladies who are married...we've all dealt with it...husbands on sugar highs, they's to be avoided precious!

I'm loving you all, horseyyay, elves are awesome, brankel1, so many of you awesome people that I can't list you all. I give you all the brownies. So Vic can't get them.


	44. Chapter 44

So, guys, I just felt like being nice and giving you another chappie. I am infinitely sorry about this late update! No really! I am. Hope you like this nice long one,

NOTE: A CHERISHED PAST AND A TROUBLED FUTURE, not this week

beFORE THE COMING OF THE STARS; I don't know, but soon...if any of you guys really really really want to adopt either story, you can have it, PM me and I'll give it to you. I want to devote everything to Ash Nazg right now, so if there is any one out there who really can't wait for this story to be done so that I can update the Harry Potter stories, you can have it and update it on a basic story plan I will give to yo and then give it back to me when Ash Nazg is finished. That will be around December or January from what I've estimated.

I WROTE ALL THIS AT MY LUNCH BREAK! YAHOO!

(And I stole her coffee!) -Vic

This was co written with Vic Johns so it might not be the same style that I regularly do, but my style and his are pretty similar, so just shoot me a PM if it is too strikingly different and we will no longer co write...well...we will co write other works, but from the beginning so there are no differences in the writing style halfway through the story.

* * *

WINNERS FOR THE OUTCOMES OF THE STORY

1. Randiriel and Haldir are both gonna make it to the end.

2. Found a brilliant person for Quethiel to love! Not gonna say here, it will spoil your surprise.

3. Boromir and Morwen will fall in love but I'm not gonna tell you if they live.

4. Legolas is going to live, I won't say if Huidhenel does.

I would like to thank the people who gave me the winning ideas!

And thanks GOLLUMGIRL 2003 CORALINE for giving me the idea for the person that Quethiel falls in love with!

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing and if I did, I would be brilliant, not alive and I'd be a guy. Unless Christopher owns it, that is.

AND IMPORTANT!: The scene with Randiriel and Haldir declaring their love for each other when they are sitting in that tree after the ball takes place thirty years before the story

* * *

There have been seven thousand five hundred and nine teen freakingly beautiful views! I nearly swooned when I saw this!

* * *

THANK YOU SO MUCH GOLLUM GIRL FOR BEING THERE FOR ME AND VIC FROM THE START, FROM MY ENGAGEMENT TO MY WEDDING TO MY NEAR-DEATH ILLNESS AND EVERYTHING THAT CAME IN BETWEEN! I owe this story to you Tyler May! Yes, that's right, without your imagination, your creativity, your friendship, and your wonderful beautiful reviews and emotional support, this story could never have been possible.

* * *

Ah! DO YOU KNOW WHAT? ASHLING IS ACTUALLY A NAME! I was so surprised when i found out, but yes, Ashling is a name and it means 'dreams.'

* * *

THE SOUTHRON USED HERE IS AN ACTUAL LANGUAGE I SPEAK, TRANSLATIONS WILL BE AT THE BOTTOM. I have not found any reference to Southron as a language anywhere, so I just used an existing language.

* * *

_I will not be updating as often now, as with my promotion my workload has definitely increased. I will probably be able to update maybe only once a week or so._

* * *

Huidhenel sat alone in a small clearing, a little way away from the others. They had fallen asleep, wrapped in their blankets; all of them but for Sharku, who was sitting upright and motionless atop a small stump. Though Huidhenel could see no more than his back and head, she knew that he was listening closely for any sound she might make; any change in breathing, a cry, a moan. Sharku had the first watch for the night, and Huidhenel had decided to sleep away from Gandalf, Boromir, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and Randiriel simply because she had grown weary of talking. An endless stream of worried conversation filled their walks in the forest, and Huidhenel wondered whether the other six expected her to know more than even Gandalf, simply because she was the daughter of the Enemy. Absentmindedly, she reached up and rubbed the old scar, which had been molded into her flesh; her father had wanted to mark her as his creation, indebted to him. However, he had come, over the years, to look upon her as his child rather than as a valuable tool.

She had been made as his weapon just as much as his safeguard; an immortal, indestructible instrument that he could wield as he had wielded his ring so long ago. Yet she had become too valuable, and too treasured, for him to allow her to go forth alone from Mordor; she had had to beg him to allow the Nazgul to take her on short flights beyond the Gate. Huidhenel remembered that as a child of fifty years, she had glimpsed Gondor from afar and implored the Witch-King to take her closer to it. That had been the one and only time that any of the Nine had used the Black Breath to force her to obey them, and Huidhenel had quickly been taken back to Mordor in a near-comatose state.

"Ashling?" the rough voice rolled out of the trees behind her.

"Sharku? You should sleep now; I shall relieve you."

"I do not want to sleep; I wish to talk with you."

Sharku climbed off the old stump and walked over to stand beside her. "You are creating too much of a fuss, Ashling. I have raised you better than this." His tone was both gentle and chiding, as it had been so long ago when she had hurled her lesson-books into Mount Doom in a fit of rage.

"They expect that I will know everything simply because of who I am! Even Gandalf! We both know that he knows nothing of Father's workings, and that I do not know. Yet Aragorn and Gimli, though I know that they look upon me as a friend…of sorts, perhaps…they still do not trust me, and I do not think that they will ever trust me. Yet they still believe that I can make this disappear…everything, bring Merry and Pippin back, bring down Father."

"Only Frodo can do that." said Sharku.

"Do you not know the pain it brings to me?" asked Huidhenel violently, turning to face him. "I could have saved all this trouble by taking the ring from him, and destroying it with the heat of my blood. But I would not be the one who dealt the final blow in killing the first person that I ever grew to love. And I am glad that that choice has been taken out of my hands; I cannot do it now. My blood is no more than elven blood. I both pray and dread that Frodo will succeed in his journey, that he will cast the Ring into the fire that gave me birth, and remove a great shadow from this land. I am not blind, Sharku! I know that of all the millions of souls that have been placed upon Middle-Earth, I am the only one to whom he has shown pity, love, or mercy. Yet I know what will happen if he does; everything I know, and everything I love—it will be gone."

Sharku gently turned Huidhenel's chin so that her eye fell upon Legolas, lying still in his roll of blankets and breathing softly. "That, at least, will not be gone, my dear," he said. "Your blood was the thing that made you the Ashling I love so; love changes us, and for him to change your very essence, your love for Legolas must have altered the very workings of your soul."

"At least he is the one thing that I will have left when the ring is gone…and when Father will not be here any longer," she whispered, as if she were steeling herself.

Surprisingly, a tear rose in Sharku's eye. Huidhenel watched it trickle down his face and then leaned forward, grasping his hands in both of hers as she had done years ago as a child.

"Why do you weep?"

"What are these tears upon your face?" he said in answer, lifting a hand to Huidhenel's cheeks, tracing the smooth, dry skin with one finger. He lookedsomething that he had seen many years ago was rising now his mind. Huidhenel lifted an eyebrow at him.

"I cannot cry," she reminded him. "What in the world are you talking about? You know that when I wish to cry my eyes simply burn."

"No, my dear," he said. "I know that your heart is heavy, and I know that you can feel its pain even though it is solid stone within you. I was merely stating the next line of the lullaby that your father used to sing to you."

"Father used to sing…to me?" asked Huidhenel in surprise. "When I remember being sung to as an elfling I only recall your voice."

Sharku smiled. "This was your very favorite lullaby. After your father planned with the Nine and his orcs late into the night, and could no longer come to put you to bed, he told me to sing this lullaby to you, thrice, and you would fall asleep. Yet you would not tolerate that song issuing from my lips. You insisted that _only _your father was to sing it to you. That is when I began to sing to you in Sindarin and Quenya. And you wondered why you grasped the languages so quickly when you were taught by the Witch-King."

"Sing it to me…please?" asked Huidhenel, reverting to the indignant baby she had been at the time Sharku had spoken of.

"_Lay down your sweet and weary head_

_Night is falling…you have come to journey's end_

_Sleep now…_

_And dream of the ones that came before…_

_They are calling_

_From across that distant shore._

_Why do you weep?_

_What are these tears upon your face?_

_Soon you will see_

_All of your fears will pass away_

_Safe in mind…_

_You are only sleeping…what can you see?_

_On the horizon?_

_Why do the white gulls call?"_

"That is all that I remember at the moment," said Sharku. "There was a great deal more, but I have forgotten it all now."

"I am sorry," said Huidhenel, who seemed to be at peace. "I realize that it _is _true, I _have _been acting like an orc in the sunshine. And…I think that I recall that lullaby."

"I am glad you do. But it has been so long since you were small enough for lullabies."

"I am glad that I had this one," said Huidhenel, who was clearly falling asleep herself as she sat against the trunk of the bending willow tree.

After she had fallen asleep, Sharku remained for a few moments, looking down at her.

"I cannot bear to lose you," he whispered, looking down at her. "I would have you live, regardless of the consequences it brings. You are my world, my _winice. _What will I do when you are no longer in it?"

He seemed to pause then, as if Huidhenel would waken and answer him. Sighing, he ran a hand back over his matted hair. He remembered, as clearly as if it had been yesterday, the day that he had been captured by orcs. He had been riding from Rivendell to Greenwood the Great, and he had been waylaid, beaten, and taken captive. It had been with difficulty that his brother Glorfindel and the twin sons of Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir, had escaped. He was sure that forces had been sent after him; after all, he had been a prominent figure in the court of Rivendell, a surrogate father to Arwen and the twins when Elrond was absent. He thought of Glorfindel with a pang; it had been so long ago that anyone had uttered his true name...Utulien…


	45. Chapter 45

Lily: OMG! I JUST BOUGHT RIGHTS FOR LOTR! DEAL WITH IT!

Vic: No she didn't...Lily, are you on a sugar high now?

Lily: Yep.

* * *

Sharku, walking back to where the others lay, saw Legolas walking quietly about among the trees.

"Legolas!" he called softly. Legolas jumped and turned around.

"Where were you?" he asked. "I assumed you had gone to Huidhenel to see if she was safe, but I saw her and you were not with her."

"No, I was speaking with her a little while ago. You must have happened upon her after I left her. What is the matter?" Sharku could tell that there was an uneasiness in Legolas's eyes.

"It is simply that-Sharku, I feel that I know you and have seen you somewhere before. But you are an Uruk-hai and I an elf, so how would that be..." Legolas trailed off. "And I know that I am not unknown to you either."

"That is because I am not," said Sharku, breathing in deeply. "Do you remember when Glorfindel's party was set upon and slaughtered, nine hundred and fifty years ago? You would have been about three thousand summers then, I believe, merely a young ellon."

"I saw some of the orcs...you forget that I, too, was in that party, riding upon the back of Elladan's horse," said Legolas. Then his eyes widened. "Were you one of those who attacked us?" His voice was harsh.

"No. But tell me, how many died in that attack?"

"Twenty-one. Only Glorfindel, the twins, and I escaped alive."

"Were all the bodies accounted for?"

"They had been burned when we returned to retrieve them. All that was left was a great pile of black ash and fragments of charred flesh here and there. We never knew if prisoners were taken, but that we doubted."

"I was the only one left alive besides the four of you, and I was taken prisoner," said Sharku tonelessly. He turned to Legolas. "My true name is Utulien, elder brother to Glorfindel and advisor to Lord Elrond, though my brother or Erestor may have taken my place by now."

Legolas stood agape, unable to speak; it was the first time Sharku had ever seen an elf shocked into silence.

"Utilien...is it truly you?"

"I know I do not look like the handsome ellon who had elleths falling at his feet right and left," said Sharku with a gentle laugh. "It was a long decade of constant torture and questioning that followed that day." He appeared to be lost in thought as he looked into the trees. "And then, with part of my nose missing, my skin black as tar, and my hands mangled, the Dark one found a purpose for me. Things were growing more heated and he needed someone to look after his daughter-Huidhenel, although she was called Ash Nazg then, Ash by her father.

"She was a willful little thing when we first met, of about two hundred years. She spoke nothing but Black Speech and Orkish; she persisted on calling me Sharku, 'old man,' because my hair had turned white by then. I spoke not another word of either language; every night, I sang to her in Sindarin. It was the first tongue that bridged that gulf between us. I taught her Westron, and how to read it.

"Over time, she became dearer to me than anything or anyone else; even my brother. She was my life, my finest work, as I called her. I taught her to be strong, but not cruel; to be clever, but not sly; and I taught her to be loving, yet not a spendthrift with her affections. When that poor boy...Suiauthon, your brother...came here, I never told him who I was. It was cruel, perhaps, but my Ashling was so deeply, so madly in love with him. And I was afraid he would leave her and break her heart...you must understand, I had no idea whether she could fade or not.

"But he had already fallen for her. It was a passionate affair that the two conducted without her father's consent or knowledge. I have never seen any one so angry as he was when he found them. And it was not a romance of the flesh, for the two, so far as I know, never even stood in the same room without me present until their marriage, and I would have not condoned it if her honor were sullied.

"Then he was taken ill, and she begged her father so desperately for him to marry them. And he did...and Suiauthon died. Huidhenel committed his body to the flames that had given her birth. She would hear of nothing else, though I told her that the Eldar believed in burial. She vowed to join him, as well. One night, while I slept, she stole away from her room and ran barefoot to Orodruin. With her own blood she wrote a farewell note, upon the stone of the bridge that once passed across the flames; only half of it remains now. Her father felt her anguish and ran from his rooms to her, catching her as she was about to jump..."

"Ai Valar," said Legolas. "She has suffered much..."

"Do not hurt her...the world has done enough," said Sharku, before walking away.

Legolas remained standing there long after Sharku had gone.

Unbeknownst to either Sharku or Legolas, Huidhenel had been lying awake mere feet away. At the mention of her love for Suiauthon, great tears had begun to roll from under Huidhenel's eyelids, remembering the day she had nearly taken her own life-and would have, if her father had not come to save her...as he always came to save her.

* * *

"So that is what happened?"

Quethiel was sitting with the other men and Faramir in a rough, dank cave. The other soldiers had chivalrously found their cleanest and least damaged garments for her, though they extended no such gallantry to either Frodo or Sam. They had also insisted that she eat first, before the rest. She had objected, but the others had cried her down. So she was sitting now huddled in blankets with Faramir beside her, drinking a bowl of rich broth that had just been given to her. When she had taken three or four sips, she crossed to where Frodo and Sam were crouched together and handed the bowl to them. They gave her grateful looks and began to share the warm soup. Quethiel also placed two of the cloaks around them. Colder and still hungry, she went back to the circle of men, who had followed her actions with slightly diapproving and curious eyes.

"Yes. And you must let us pass," said Quethiel. There was steel in her tone that Faramir had never heard there before. "You must let them pass."

"That...I will think on it," he said.

"If you do not...this world will fall into ruin..."

"My Quethiel, that I doubt," he said, speaking as if she were a small child. Quethiel bristled at his condescending tone.

"I can see! I know what it does to him...and it will do worse to you!"

The conversation was interrupted at that point, however.

"There is a strange creature in the Forbidden Pool-eating fish," said a young captain, coming up from a pass at the back of the cave.

Quethiel's heart stood still. She had hoped he had escaped-but Smeagol must have been mortally hungry. _No, please, don't say you have killed him..._A strange pain seemed to build in her chest at the thought that Smeagol might be dead.

_He could have been saved..._

"Let us go," said Faramir. He turned to Frodo and Sam and said, "Come."

Quethiel got up and made to follow, but Faramir turned to her and said, "You stay here, it may be dangerous."

She resisted the urge to curse at him-she had picked up some fairly good ones in Southron from Randiriel before the Fellowship had separated-and said, "No, I'm going."

"You are not."

In answer, Quethiel brushed past him into the pass, her footsteps sounding loudly on the damp stone. The men stood stupefied when, a few moments later, her voice echoed back to them.

"Try and stop me."

* * *

GO QUETHIEL! COOKIES TO ANYONE WHO GUESSES WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO QUETHIEL!


	46. Chapter 46

Lily: OMG! I JUST BOUGHT RIGHTS FOR LOTR! DEAL WITH IT!

Vic: No she didn't...Lily, are you on a sugar high now?

Lily: Yep. And Happy Birthday to Anne Dearborn!

Sorry this chapter is so short but i wrote it in 1 5 mins so yeah.

* * *

They had at last left the endless trees, the damp ground, the unfriendly branches bent over their heads. Now they walked upon an open grassland, breathing in the fresh, pure air, wondering as one how they had not noticed the thickness and the cloister of even the wind of Fangorn. The spirits of Huidhenel had been lifted most of all, for she had laughed aloud after Gandalf had called Shadowfax.

"One of the Mearas," she said, lifting her hand to stroke his nose. The others had expected him to shy away from her, but he did not; he bumped his nose into his shoulder and whinnied as if he were greeting an old friend. Gandalf cast her a questioning look.

"I suspect there is more afoot here than I had thought, Huidhenel. It appears that he knows you."

"He does, indeed, know me. He still believes he owes me a great debt, no matter what I did to persuade him that he does not."

"Where was it that you saw Shadowfax before?" asked Legolas.

"He is a great deal older than his strength and carriage bely," said Huidhenel, running an adoring hand down from the horse's forelock to his nostrils. "It was this very horse that brought Suiauthon to Mordor…"

"What do you mean?" asked Gandalf. "Was he not captured by orcs and brought here?"

"He was, but something about Shadowfax seemed to protect Suiauthon. They could not come within five feet of him, if they intended to hurt him. They then dragged him away from Shadowfax, but still, no weapon found its mark upon him. That was when the orcs decided to take him, and Shadowfax, to my father, suspecting that they had powers that he might want, perhaps, to take for himself. My father soon discovered that if Shadowfax was near Suiauthon, he could not be touched, so Shadowfax was stabled by the gates of Mordor and Suiauthon was brought into Barad-Dur. It was I who saw him caged there, before I ever set eyes upon the ellon I loved so…I stole down and opened the gates, setting him free. I believe that he knew that he could save Suiauthon if he stayed, but I did not know. Eventually he did leave."

"So that was why Utulien never came back," said Legolas, deep in thought.

"Shadowfax did not have anything to do with me; I never saw him. Ashling did not tell me what it was she wanted to do when she left her chambers on that night." said Sharku.

"No, not you. Suiauthon named Shadowfax 'Utulien,' after you, and for the hope that his coming would bring in many adventures for him. He was only a child then…and your disappearance struck us all badly, Utulien, though you may not believe it. Suiauthon soon refused to travel to Rivendell, merely because he would see either Glorfindel or Erestor waiting to welcome us, instead of you."

"Ai Valar…was it my presumed death then that severed ties between Eryn Lasgalen and Rivendell?"

"No…you better than anyone knew that my father, though on friendly terms with Lord Elrond, never forgave him for not accompanying Lady Celebrian on that fateful journey, where she was captured by orcs and then tortured. My father was a good childhood friend of hers…he had even believed himself to be in love with her as a young ellon, but later he regarded her as a dear sister, and she saw him as her brother.

"They had long been uneasy, but your vanishing was the final straw, for Suiauthon would cry and scream… yes, he who never used to shed a tear would weep as if his heart was broken, when our father tried to cajole him to accompany us. After some years, after Suiauthon was grown and his heart somewhat healed from your passing…though none of our hearts truly did…Sairalinde was born, and it was no longer practical for us to ride often to Rivendell, for both she and our mother were in delicate condition. Then, as you know, Suiauthon was captured…my mother nearly faded. Such a journey as that was never possible after he was lost. Then Randiriel was born, and then she too was captured. It was the last that Naneth could take, and she died a mere decade after that."

"Enough talking," said Huidhenel abruptly, and Legolas fell silent; Huidhenel would nearly always become brusque after Suiauthon's name was mentioned in the company—and it was mentioned fairly often, by Legolas and Gandalf.

They then mounted the five horses; Legolas and Gimli on Arod, Aragorn and Randiriel on Brego, Sharku and Huidhenel on the horse called Blithe, and Boromir and Morwen on one called Kaleith. Gandalf rode alone on Shadowfax.

"Where are we going?" asked Morwen to Boromir as they rode.

"Rohan, most probably. Or, at least, that is what we discussed, do you remember? Gandalf had predicted that we will not find the welcome there that we would have of old," he said pensively. The two rode in silence for a while and then he spoke again. "I hope that Quethiel is all right."

"That is what fills my every thought," said Morwen with a great sigh. "She is so young, and so inexperienced—her shooting the orcs on that day before Lothlorien was merely chance, and nothing to do with skill. I would have gone alone, yet I knew it was unwise and she insisted upon coming with me. And she took the most dangerous road among the fourteen of us."

"And we still have not found Merry and Pippin," said Boromir.

"Do not worry about the two," said Gandalf with a light chuckle. "They are a great deal safer where they are than the nine of us are about to be."

"Well, where are they?" asked Legolas, who was trying with all his might not to laugh at Gimli, who was, in Legolas's words, sitting in the horse as if he were s sack of potatoes.

"They are back in Fangorn, of course."

"They're still in there?" asked Morwen in horror. "Those trees…they are just as capable of moving as you and I are!"

"More capable of moving than I am, anyway," said Gandalf, laughing.

* * *

Quethiel could stand the silence no longer. Smeagol had crawled up out of the water and was now sitting upright on a rock, dangling his feet in the pool and eating a fish. She noticed that he did not do it as he used to, tearing at the flesh with his teeth while holding the fish's body in his hands. Rather, he hit the fish's head expertly upon the rock, killing it painlessly and quickly. He then separated the fins from the body.

The prospect of actually eating a raw fish seemed to be something he was reluctant to do, regardless of the hundreds of times he had done it before. Finally, he snapped the fish's backbone and then held the two pieces of fish over the pool, letting the blood drain in to it. It ran, as did the entire pool, toward the south end of the water, where it seemed to disappear. The water was clear again within moments.

"Should we shoot?" asked Faramir to Frodo. Frodo opened his mouth to object, but before he could speak Quethiel shouted out.

"Smeagol! Duck under the water! Get out, get out of here!"

Smeagol's head was directed up toward them for the smallest moment; and then he jumped into the water. Though Frodo screamed, "No!" the arrows from the guards quickly followed Smeagol's progress, and Quethiel felt that her heart was about to burst forth from her chest. Yet no swirl of scarlet in the silver pool rose where the arrows fell. Quethiel wondered where he had gone, until she saw a foot vanishing out of sight; he must have swum up into the pool through a short, water-filled crevice that led down the outside of the mountain. Her relief was short-lived, however, for Faramir spoke.

"Take the halflings down to the largest cave where the others are."

One of the men moved to give Quethiel a hand coming down the rocks, yet Faramir held up his own and shook his head.

"Leave her here with me."

A look of surprise crossed the other man's face, but he nodded and went to help the others guide Frodo and Sam back into the main tunnel.

After they had gone, Faramir turned to Quethiel. He did not speak right away, but sighed and placed his head in his hands.

"Quethiel, my darling one, what am I going to do with you?"

"You don't have to do anything," said Quethiel. "You were about to kill something that did not deserve death."

"And how would you know?"

"Have you ever looked upon him before?" asked Quethiel irately.

"No."

"Then, pray tell, how would you know?"

"He has a foul and sly look about him; he walks as if he had been an animal made into some semblance of a man. I saw him in the swamp after we attacked the Haradrim, do you not recall?

"I do. But I have traveled with him for some weeks now. He could have harmed me at any time, but he chose not to. What is more, he saved Frodo's life in the Dead Marshes."

"The Dead Marshes! What in the name of Arda were you doing there? It is terribly dangerous, swamp around for miles and miles-"

"There is a way through. Smeagol found it there, several years ago. Frodo followed the paths of the will-o-the-wisp and fell in. For you know that the fires are lit because of the gases from the rotting things in the soil and water, not because of the will of the dead, as so many people foolishly believe..."

"Quethiel, I-"

Just then a great jolt seemed to run through the ground. Faramir and Quethiel stood uncertainly, wondering what was happening. A rock fell from above them, and they darted apart to get out of its path.

At once, the ceiling of the pass began to quiver, and Faramir and Quethiel looked at each other fearfully. They had not time for more than a panicked glance before the ledge above them collapsed. The entire mountain was shaking now, and Quethiel began to run up toward Faramir, clambering over the pile of fallen stone. Faramir was leaning over them to help Quethiel up towards them when stones began falling from higher up, and faster.

"Go, Faramir! Save yourself!" cried Quethiel. "You can't save me in time, if you keep on we'll both die!"

That was the last he saw of her before the mountain fell in, leaving him scrambling away and Quethiel buried in it.


	47. Chapter 47

Lily: OMG! I JUST BOUGHT RIGHTS FOR LOTR! DEAL WITH IT!

Vic: No she didn't...Lily, are you on a sugar high now?

Lily: Yep. And Happy Birthday to Anne! My FABULOUS SIS-IN-LAW!

* * *

Quethiel tried desperately to shield herself, crawling under a large overhang. Faramir had fled. and fear rose like bile in her throat. The rumbling of the mountain was all about her; she could barely breathe, so frightened was she. She huddled in a ball, watching stone crash past her. At last, the shaking stopped; and Quethiel was in complete darkness. The air was dusty and she coughed, tears falling thick and fast down her cheeks.

She was alone and buried deep where no one could ever possibly find her; she heard the splashing of the pool beside her. She was going to die there, alone, starving. She might as well throw herself into the pool right then and drown herself...she could not swim.

Something wet and slippery closed upon her ankle and she screamed, her voice echoing eerily.

"It's only me," said a sibilant voice.

"Smeagol!" gasped Quethiel, clutching at her heart.

"Come."

"Where?" asked Quethiel fearfully.

"Into the pool."

"I cannot swim."

"It doesn't matter-come on!"

Suddenly he yanked her foot down. With a terrified cry, she fell in, only to be steadied at once by Smeagol. "Hold on to me, Quethiel," he said. "Hold on and don't let go if you want us to get out of here alive."

"I'll sink, Smeagol, I can't swim!"

"Hold on."

Terrified, she placed his hands around his neck. Without warning, he dived, dragging Quethiel into the depths of the water. Terror rose in her. She fought the urge to struggle with Smeagol, whose hands grasped her own so tightly. His feet were kicking steadily, pushing them onward. Her chest was burning, and, putting out a foot, she felt rock.

At that moment, Smeagol dived again into what seemed to be a narrow tunnel. Quethiel felt herself being carried downward with the current, and just as she was convinced that both she and Smeagol were going to die there in that tunnel, they tumbled out into a large, shallow pool, far less deep than the one in the mountain. Quethiel gasped for air, floating on her back. She soon saw a concerned face above her, and smiled weakly at it.

"Thank you, so much," she said, flinging her arms around Smeagol, who stood astonished at the embrace. After standing still for a few moments, he hesitantly lifted his arms and hugged her in return.

"What for?" His voice was different than she had ever heard it before-tender, hoarse, worried-very like the voice of her Uncle Foigred...and very like the voice of her father.

"For saving my life." She relinquished her hold on him, and stood back, waist deep in water, her soaked dress clinging to her body, long golden hair hanging limp. Then she paused. "You look...different..."

"I do?"

Smeagol bent over the water to see something extremely odd. He was no longer as thin as he had been; his arms and legs had fleshed out, and he seemed to have grown; it seemed that he stood only an inch or so shorter than Quethiel did. And the most striking difference was that his once batlike eyes were now smaller, almond-shaped. On top of it all, his hair had grown, as if he were balding. His skin was no longer like the skin of a fish, but like human skin.

"What has happened to me?" he asked almost wistfully, touching the water with a finger. The image broke into a thousand shivering drops of light. Then he turned to Quethiel. "Do you, too, see what I saw? Am I dreaming?"

"No, I see...was this what you were, Smeagol?"

"It is what I was before I found the Ring...and it is what I am now," he whispered.

He turned to Quethiel.

"Thank you," he said. Those two words spoke more than any eloquent speech could ever have done so. It was clear to them both that somehow-though neither had any idea how-Quethiel had been the cause of this change.

Quethiel smiled, the image of a water-goddess enthroned in a pond.

"You are welcome...Smeagol."

* * *

"You have yet to convince me why I should not go after her," demanded Haldir, who was pacing.

"Trust me. Has my judgment ever been wrong, Haldir?" Galadriel was beginning to look weary. She no longer stood as she did whenever someone else was in the room where she kept her Mirror. She sat limply upon a chair, her fatigue evident in her eyes.

"It has not, but-"

"Then, by the Valar, Haldir, I _beg_ you-stay here, please. I do not know why you left, but now you have returned-"

"I journeyed to Eryn Lasgalen," said Haldir.

Galdriel's lips parted in surprise.

"You went to Greenwood?"

"Yes. I sought an audience with the Lord Thranduil...and lady Sairalinde and her husband Arphenion. They were extremely surprised to see me, as we had not met since the Naming Day of Randiriel."

"And what happened?"

Haldir began to recount his tale...

* * *

"My Lord Thranduil," said Haldir. "I have some news for you. It will come as a shock."

The king, whose brows and hair were frosted with silver, paused and looked at him.

"I doubt it could be greater than our surprise at seeing you, Marchwarden of Lorien. For it has been many centuries since an elf of Lorien graced us with their presence."

"I know that it will be of much greater surprise to you than this. I believe I should begin at the beginning."

"That is always a good place to begin," said Thranduil, lifting an eyebrow.

"Some eighty years ago, a horse wandered into Lorien, an elvish horse. This astonished us, for none had been lost and we had no way of knowing where it had come from. Upon its back was a woman, ill to the point of death. She was an elleth, which puzzled us even more. She looked as if she had seen fewer than two hundred years, and her aura and fea were the weakest I had ever seen. Her aura could barely be seen at all, and her fea was so faint that we were sure she would die. But after a fortnight of care, the elleth regained consciousness, but she could not speak."

"A mute elf?" asked Sairalinde, frowning slightly. "That is unusual indeed."

Haldir went on.

"Her hair was as black as night, but after she woke and bathed, it was made clear that her hair was dyed, for after she washed it it was a brilliant gold like the sun upon corn. I soon became suspicious that she was not mute, but rather chose not to speak. For fifty long years she uttered not a word. She walked about Lorien like an errant moth, never speaking, never showing any sign that she knew any of us were there. I was the only elf whose presence she would acknowledge. After I saw her in the stables singing to her horse, I led her to a bank, sat down beside her, and told her that neither of us would move from there until she told me the story of her life and how she came to be upon that horse, so badly injured and sick.

"She told me that she had been captured as an elfling of twenty years. She did not know where it was she had come from, only that her party was accosted and slain. Her parents had, she believed, been taking her to Rohan, but she could not remember clearly...she was so young then. Her parents were murdered and the orcs sold her to a slave trader, who sold her to a man in Rhun, an innkeeper. He beat her regularly, and nearly tortured her...one day she made her escape, and reached the only place she could in her youth and panic...Harad.

"After she had grown to womanhood, the man and woman who had taken her in had their first child; the mother died days after the birth. Once the baby had grown up, she joined the army and served for thirty years as a general in war. She had been in battle when she had been shot. The wound had been infected; her next-in-command had placed her upon her horse and told her to go home. The horse did so, but she had been an elvish filly, so she brought the elleth to Lorien, where we found her.

"Over the next twenty-five years or so, we became friends closer than family; it was then that I realized I loved her...with every fiber of soul I had in me."

"So you, who professed you had no time for love or marriage, fell in love with this girl," said Thranduil, sounding amused.

"Then, after we had plighted our troth and pledged to be married, thirty years later, though we still had not married by then...the Lady called her to her mirror and showed her the past that she had long forgotten. And then I knew what I should have known the moment she spoke for the first time before my eyes."

"What knowledge did you gain?" asked Thranduil.

"I had given her the name Randiriel, for the way she wandered about Lorien. Her true name, she said, was Vande-Vanya."

Thranduil started, rising from his chair.

"But she did not remember the name she was given at birth."

The king had paled, and so had Sairalinde.

"She said the names of her parents were Elensar and Maeglin. But she did not know the truth about that, either. Her birth name was, in fact, Haeronwen."

"Are you sure?" asked Thranduil harshly.

"I am. The Lady's Mirror Saw it. She is the lost one, your daughter, your youngest one."

"Haeronwen is alive?" whispered Sairalinde. Tears had begun to fall down her face. "Oh, Valar...our baby..."

"Where is she?" asked Thranduil. "Where is Haeronwen?"

"She has left Lorien on the quest to destroy the One Ring," said Haldir. "I tried to stop her, but she found Legolas, and..."

"...And she recognized him? He will protect her, if he knows...do they know?"

"Yes, they both do."

"Are you and she married now?"

"Yes..."

Haldir, though he spoke for another hour after that, did not mention the fact that Randiriel was with child, for Thranduil and Sairalinde, at the end of that day, were nearly delirious with joy...

* * *

Haldir turned to her, in shock, noticing, for the first time, her obvious exhaustion.

"I am sorry, My Lady, I fear I have tired you greatly," he said, rushing to her side and helping her rise to her feet.

"No, no. If I were in your place, you in mine, and Celebrian...my Celebrian..." The name was spoken with such love and such pain that Haldir winced slightly, as if the Lady's pain had found refuge in his heart. "...if she was in the place of Randiriel, I would not heed you. If she were in danger, I would abandon everything that I had and every other duty to find her."

"Then how do you expect me to do any different when my wife and child are facing the dangers of Middle-Earth alone?" he asked softly.

"I cannot. But I promise you, they will both live. Your child will be born in a turbulent time and place. He shall be in danger from the moment that he enters this world. But trust me when I say that both he and Randiriel will be safe. She will live for many years after his birth, and be able to raise him as any mother should...and you, too, will be there for your son. All three of you will be safe, Haldir. Simply trust me, and all will be well."


End file.
